


Your Guardian Monster

by Marsiposa



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fanfiction, Fluff, Kinda, Romance, Sans - Freeform, Slow Burn, but sans isn't, ghost sans, i'll add tags as i go, monsters are underground, not really - Freeform, reader is bitter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-06-06 22:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6772684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marsiposa/pseuds/Marsiposa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything was peaceful amongst humans and monsters after the barrier was smashed in 201X. But then a reset happened, and Sans, for one reason or another, ended up caught between worlds and trapped atop the surface. He now exists in a timeline where nobody can see him, hear him or touch him. That is, nobody except you.</p><p>Story is also on quotev. Username is TiramiTANK</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Annoying Dog is good at getting the plot started

So what was on the menu for dinner tonight in the good ol' complex most suckers knew as Aberration Pointe? Was it cup noodles? Toaster pastry? A massive spoonful of nothing? Something with another useless _E_ tacked onto it? Seriously,  _Pointe?_ Who had named these parts and why did they get away with it?  
  
_Bitter._  
  
That was a universal understatement in regards to you. You trudged toward the stairs that led up to your flat wearing the most vinegar of expressions. Neighbors noticed your approach and gave no sort of greeting. Not a twirl of assembled fingers, or a word of acknowledgment. Some even collected their belongings, be they knitting needles or bibles, and headed back into the comfort of their respective homes, sparing you eye contact. When the sound of doors sliding shut swept the grounds like nails on a chalkboard, you found yourself looking down. Watching the dirt, where tire tracks lay in patches and drunken footprints occupied the farthest reaches of space.  
  
It wasn't that they hated you.  
  
They just felt like saying hello to you wasn't worth the effort.  
  
At least, that's what you insisted to quell some of that misery. _Why were they so cold?_ It was the last thing you thought of when you climbed into bed at night, and the first thing to plague you when you returned to the waking world come morning. Nobody hated you. Hating you was a waste of energy. Trying to change you was even more-so. You were grim, gloomy and depressing and there was no hope of dislodging you from your ways. Why _were_ you that way? Surely everyone had a different answer when your name scattered like a bad word during your absences from the complex.  
  
But the truth?  
  
Honestly, you weren't quite sure yourself. You simply felt dull, like a weathered stone wasting into cosmos. There was this gnawing protest that welled in your gut, and it suggested that something important was missing, like there was a fragment of you that fell away and took with it dissipating joy. Every day you awoke at the same hour, attended a job where they paid you to surrender your dignity when faced with rude customers. There were no friends or lovers to occupy the small spaces between your woeful schedule. You had long left your family behind, claiming yourself independent. And you were. You just weren’t too happy with the end result.   
  
You just...existed. Like everyone else. Like nothing at all. There was _nothing_ special about you. No one to ogle at you, or discuss at obnoxious lengths your greatness. It had always been that way. It likely would never change.  
  
That is, until that night when determination came wrapping at your door.   
  
It began like any other. A pale moon for unique embellishment, and then there were doors sliding, silence following, your shoes sliding past concrete as you moved along an oblong lick of pavement that bordered some forgotten bed of flowers. The dingy stairs were in sight. Frozen food or something worth less than pocket change awaited you. A tub that only spilled cold water was ready for you. The lumpy mattress atop a plane of rusted springs was calling your name.  
  
And then.  
  
"Bark!"  
  
You stalled in place, completely non-functioning before twisting a look over your shoulder. When you noticed the fluffy white dog staring up at you with beady eyes, you tutted.  
  
"Another runaway, huh?" you turned, your bag sliding from your shoulder as you knelt and offered the pup your open palm. His nose brushed it as he sniffed curiously before giving an approving lick. You wore a lopsided smile now.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
Great. Talking to a dog. At least he didn't talk back to you. Or scream at you about prices you had zero control over. Or demand to speak to the manager just because you couldn't give a full refund on an item they had been using for six months at their disposal.  
  
His fur was pure as snow, almost ethereal, and when you traced a finger along his throat, your smirk tumbled away.  
  
"No collar?" you ruffled the soft area behind his ear. His leg kicked up some dirt.  
  
"Stray?"  
  
Another small yip, and suddenly he was barreling away. Your hand fell into empty space. You looked up frantically, your heart careening when you realized he was heading for the streets.  
  
"Woah woah woah!" and now you were chasing him. "Come back!" you hollered, then whistled, tripping over yourself at least twice in the process. "Please? Come back! Here boy, here!"  
  
_Was_ it a boy? Perhaps it wasn’t, and that's why he (or she) didn't respond to your pleas, not even chancing you a last look over its little furry shoulder. When they became naught but a small white blip in your field of view, you slowed, weighing your options.  
  
_What am I doing? What would I even do when I caught up to it? It’s not like I can keep it. Pets aren't allowed in the complex unless you pay a fee for them. I couldn’t do that if I wanted to. Would I give him away to a shelter? Better that than to leave him alone in a dangerous area like this. Oh man, if I just sit here and do nothing, he might run off into traffic._    
  
You made a decision. Those thoughts of loathing indifference would not be spotted by guilt tonight. You couldn't fathom the image of such a sweet animal being hurt, the pure white of his coat muddled by red. You sprinted after him, wandering past the outskirts of your complex and down the semi busy streets. There was a winding path carved into the grass where people would jog at the occasional break of dawn, and that was the route this little pooch was taking. He was running fast now, near flying, as if realizing he left the stove on before coming to pay you a visit. You were panting, grasping for oxygen when you finally slowed to a stop and caught your knees in both hands. He had disappeared into a patch of woods that resided amidst urban buildings. Rumors were that people got murdered out here. Some even said it was haunted. Good thing you didn't believe in ghosts.  
  
When you realized you were knee deep in shadow, and the sound of cars had become dim like an afterthought, you finally stopped and questioned what exactly it was you were doing. The dog was completely gone. You gave a weak call, hoping he would return, but were only rewarded with literal crickets and the weird coo of some animal in a tree. Your pace was slacking. You thought about laying against the base of any random tree and slowly becoming one with it. Surely, no one would miss you. It would be peaceful. Out here things were serene and judgement ceased existence.  
  
In the distance you saw nothing. The dog was gone, the sound of his paws or mewls made only a memory. All you had was the fractured moonlight overhead. When you came to a stop, you heard what might have been mistaken as a sigh.  
  
A _sigh?_  
  
You paused, held your breath, looked all around.  
  
Then there was a hum. Undoubtedly made by the same creature. It was spooky. You swallowed.  
  
_Maybe I should get out of here._  
  
One step backward and a twig had snapped beneath your foot, alerting all passerby to your existence. The sound startled you more than it had anyone else who might have been present, and you swirled around, feeling your face turn ashen when you noticed two small lights leering at you from the darkness.  
  
There was a moment where time was frozen, until…  
  
"gotta wonder how someone like her ends up out here all alone."  
  
SHIT.  
  
You clattered backward, cutting your legs on unseen brush, backside colliding with the trunk of a tree pulled straight from fantasy lore. Okay, so you _weren't_ alone out here. Whoever you were sharing this forest with seemed almost nonhuman. You couldn't see them, but you felt it radiating off their person. Their energy was foreign to you. You felt you could almost _taste_ it.  
  
"I was just leaving..!" your voice was strained, as you feared that any moment the stranger would lash out and attack you. "Don't hurt me. I was leaving. I swear. Please."  
  
"hm?"  
  
You lost all credibility when the strange phantom floated into view. The light gave form to its features, and you found yourself staring back at a small, slightly chubby skeleton. Well, he wasn’t skeleton by human standards. His matter seemed malleable, though stark white just the same. He was wearing a blue jacket, gym shorts and pink slippers. There was a muted scarf nestled beneath his chin, and when a crisp autumn wind blew past the two of you, the fabric did not react.  
  
Oh yeah. And those lights from before? Those were his irises, held together within eye sockets so deep with dark matter that you were unable to see into the back of his head. He had a permanent grin about him too, and when he spoke in that deep voice of his, it did not open.  
  
"can you see me, kiddo?"  
  
He was a monster.  
  
"hello?"  
  
An actual _monster._  
   
“i see you starin’ right at me.”  
   
It’s true, you were.  
   
“kid?”  
  
No way.  
  
“say somethin’.”  
  
Screaming.


	2. A weird skeleton insists that you let him literally barge into your home

PAUSE. Dial the clock back to an unspecified date in 200X, when you were still in primary school, sized like a gumdrop and missing some of your baby teeth. You had been sitting in a classroom, noisily rolling your pencil along the incline of your desktop out of refusal to scribble down notes when the teacher suddenly bounced unto the topic of Monster History.

Monster History? That was a new one.

You caught the pencil with a thumb and finger, staring straight at her like she had suggested arson. All of your classmates wore expressions of the same attentive nature as the room swelled in dreary silence. When the teacher dimmed the lights, rolled out the projector and displayed some grainy slides with artist' renditions of what the monsters MIGHT have looked like hundreds of years ago, the class ooed and aahed. 

Except you. You kept quiet despite the nervous banging of your heart.

There was something so wrong with how they all looked. Monsters were no doubt scary. Their bodies carried this nonsense range of variety. Some were scaly, some furry, some had a single eye while others had five hundred. Some were lined with teeth and some appeared like illustrations from folklore. Some looked like any normal animal off the street, except off in a way. They were all very off. Each slide revealed something more freakish and terrifying than the last, and your skin was crawling by the time it was over.

The teacher...(her name escapes you)...explained that monsters once lived among humans on the surface of earth, but were banished to the underground following their defeat after a war between both races. Why had the war begun? What caused that tension from the start? Mrs. Can't Remember seemed hesitant to say, despite it being the topic of the hour.

It surprised the room of children when she revealed that the education board was trying to ban the teaching of Monster History in classroom environments altogether, as they deemed it a waste of academia.

"By the time you're adults," she said, "it's likely this subject will be gone from schools all around the world."

At your age, it was pretty hard to conceptualize the weight of that kind of promise. You were suspicious it was even true, kind of like the lie where parents swear that crust is the healthiest part of bread, or that fairies come and steal your fallen teeth in the dark of night. You didn't quite get it until you were older and the term 'monster' had become something of a curse among society.

Just think, when people disapproved greatly of another individual, what is it they would call them?

Monster.

Yeah. Exactly.

Fast forward to now. You were looking deep into the curious eye sockets of a monster wearing a skeleton's hide. He seemed dangerous at face value but his mannerisms were anything but. Definitely not like the slides from school.

Still, the inky setting did little to curb your alarm. After all, monsters were the object of fear in most storybooks these days; they were the antagonist, the enemy, the creatures exiled to a world no one could ever find all those centuries ago. So of course you screamed. Of course you stumbled and flailed. Your trembling could easily be explained away. Couldn’t it?

The skeleton was rattled by your voice, and so was some unseen bird as it took noisy flight from the branches overhead.

"maybe you shouldn't do that?" he said in referral to your shriek. "they'll think you're gettin’ murdered out here."

Weren't you though?

"i'm just here shocked that you can even hear me.” A beat, and a tilt of his bulbous head. “you can hear me, right?"

Now you were confused, sputtering hopelessly. "Y-Yes."

You mumbled the slightest whine when the monster was prompted closer. He could tell you were anxious, but curiosity still drove him right into your vicinity, to a point where you could reach forth and touch him. There was the crunching of soil when his slippers met with the ground, and he looked down at them, as if it were the most perplexing thing.

"woah. now that's definitely new."

Those tiny glowing droplets he might've called eyes traced up to meet with yours again.

"say, kiddo, do me a favor and hold out one palm."

Excuse you.

"Why?" your voice was embarrassingly small. "What are you gonna do to it…?" Seriously, a dog was so not worth this. Thanks for nothing white ball of no-good fluff.

"nothing. i swear this won't hurt a bit. or. at least it shouldn't. don't think it will."

Fuck.

"please? just real quick. think of it like a handshake."

A handshake huh? Well, he did say please.

Upon hesitantly reaching forward with your fingers stretched, you nearly cried out when you felt raw bone on your flesh, as though the contact would precede the collapsing of the very universe. His hand was cold, clammy, everything that you didn't want to be feeling. But beneath the unpleasantness was an underlying warmth. It almost tingled, like the faintest energy. Neurons were firing. Your pulses seemed to form a mismatched circuitry.

The skeleton breathed in deep through his nasal cavity.

"well kid. gotta hand it to you. i think you might be just what the doctor ordered."

When words failed you, he managed to understand the one thing your eyes screamed the loudest. Elaborate.

"you're the first thing on the surface that's been able to see, hear, or touch me," his eyes followed a path down to your quivering hand before puncturing the dirt. "seems even the ground doesn't accommodate for this ol' bag of bones unless you're standing right on it."

"Sorry, what?" you almost humored looking behind you before gesturing back to yourself. "You're talking about me?"

"yes, you. who else do you see gettin' friendly with a magic skeleton 'round here?"

You hadn't realized that you were both still joined at the hands and frantically tore yours away, cradling it like it stung when it very much didn't. As the atoms ebbed away, he chuckled; his smile became slightly distant.

"right. you must be really confused by all this."

Damn straight you were, and you had every right to be.

"Who even are you?”

The skeleton pointed a thumb to his chest.

"kiddo, you can call me sans. sans the skeleton."

Your brows drew together. "Sans...? You mean like the f-"

"yes."

"Oh."

"yeah and uh..." he rubbed the back of his skull, tightening his shoulders. "hate to be forward and all but i might have to stick around with you for a bit. at least ‘til i figure out this chaotic timeline and find out what went awry."

Another desperate, near strangled why flew from your gaping maw. He seemed to read this and merely shrugged.

"not like i'm the one makin' the rules around here. if it were up to me, i’d be seated somewhere comfortable with some greasy food and an audience to hear my jokes. but what can ya do. life ain’t perfect."

"But...but..." you took a step back, "You're a monster."

"real astute observation."

"No I mean, an actual one."

"it's true."

"…Uh...?" you wracked your brain, but any pressing for memories of monsters made to look like skeletons came up fruitless. Any possibility that one could end up here under such odd circumstances was...well...an impossibility.

"Maybe you don't realize it but you're giving such hollow answers here! How about telling me how any of this makes sense!"

Literally minutes ago you were just a girl living paycheck to paycheck on a bad side of town and now you were some kind of catalyst for a stout skeleton with light-up eyes. Sans was unfazed, to say the least.

"well that's 'cause i don't exactly know much myself. it doesn't make sense. as for the specifics...i figured we could mull all that over once we're out of these woods. and we better do it fast before someone bars us for tree-spassing."

You pitched a brow at him. Another shrug.

"what can i say. been off my a-game lately. way too busy having ghostly properties."

Still you were stunned and at a total loss. He was way too easygoing given the gravity of the situation.

"so you got a place or what?"

"I have an apartment that smells bad and looks even worse."

"that'll do."

Well guess it's settled then.

Needless to say, before entering the forest you had expected to leave the area empty-handed, and in a parallel universe, alongside the dog that had lured you in the first place, where he would be your pet and you both could eat vanilla ice cream while singing showtunes 'til sunrise. Instead, you emerged with a talking skeleton in tow.

He was clinging to your sweater, pinching the material between his bony fingers and musing about the impossibility of the situation.

If not even he could explain this all away, then you were screwed.

No, worse.

You were boned.


	3. Sans is a rude and pushy guest and it makes you want to tear your hair out

You were Sans' escort to the complex, guiding him like he was a withered old granny. Trying to process the situation in a calm and rational manner was finally doable after completing the seven-minute trip back from whence you came. The trembling had subsided and was instead replaced with tense annoyance. After all, Sans had a death grip on your sleeve and wasn’t letting go.  
  
After reaching the stairs to your flat, every step was punctuated by a comment from the skeleton, as he had apparently never seen steps with such large gaps in between the footholds. He called them _unsafe._ Said someone could easily slip through and break their bones. Seems he would know a lot about those.  
  
You didn't respond because honestly, give the implication of how things were, you would look like you were talking to yourself. Outer parties had not the blessed opportunity of witnessing fat skeletons who may or may not be there. Sans respected your silence.  
  
Once at the door, you fumbled in your bag for the keys, eyeing the skeletal monster as he stood on tiptoes and prodded the peephole like there was an equation to it. He pushed on the little glass marble, probably expecting it to ding-dong. It wasn't endearing. Or funny. You wondered if he could leave fingerprints.  
  
The lock was undone. You stepped over the threshold with the skeleton literally tangled in your coattails. He kicked the door shut for you, and immediately you tried to get a good look at him, struggling for purchase in the low light.  
  
"...Are you going to let go of me?" there was a wavering uncertainty in your voice. Now that you were both detached from the rest of the world, things felt a bit more dangerous.  
  
"dunno. there's no tellin' what'll happen when i do."  
  
"Well, you should try anyway," you looked away, unable to hold eye-contact a moment longer. "Because this is really starting to freak me out. No...offense."  
  
His sockets closed. _What the hell, he has eyelids?_ "yeah. i gotcha."  
  
His hand finally strayed from the material on your sleeve, leaving it crinkled and in disarray. He tested his new freedom, tapping a sole against the wood floor.  
  
"hm so far so good."  
  
A step away from you, toward the unkindled fireplace. He seemed to be inspecting your abode while also maintaining caution. Despite the unknown, everything was running smoothly.  
  
"still doin' alright."  
  
And then one step to the left sent him careening through the floor and out of sight. No sound. No crash from below. Simply vanished like an apparition with stones tied to its feet.  
  
You almost screamed, pressing yourself against the wall and glaring at the space where he once stood like it would come alive and eat you. Then, a couple wheezes later and you had scrambled to the floorboards, dumbly feeling about their cracks, as if that would A) give you answers to what the sam hell was going on or B) bring him back.  
  
There was a cough from behind. You spun, startled, holding the front of your chest to feel the thundering organ within. Sans was hovering on the opposite of the room, yes, hovering, and not the least bit amused by it. He looked in the direction of the flat beneath your own.  
  
"well. i should've known that would happen."  
  
You grimaced. “Uh. What 'happened'?”  
  
“no idea but there’s a bearded man down there eating his dinner.” He didn’t seem fond of the memory. “saw it for like a split second and then suddenly i was heading for earth’s core.”  
  
...Spooky...  
  
You slowly gravitated to the couch, sank against the cushions and took a long drag of air. It was stale and reminded you there was laundry to do. But _not now._ Damn, why were you so lightheaded?  
  
Sans moved toward you, airborne, toes at least a millimeter off the ground. When he was at least a foot away, he plopped back to the wood below. There was a sound to accomodate. He was made of matter again.  
  
"Why me?" you mindlessly pulled back your hand, examining it, from the webbing between the fingers, to the veins and lines that psychics claimed told your story. "Why would you need _me?_ I have nothing to do with monsters...or...supernatural things. I'm just a retail worker. A college student. I don't even have friends associated with voodoo-ish things. Or friends in general."  
  
You had to keep from rearing away when Sans casually took the hand you had displayed before you and played with it using his own. _He needs it._ You assured yourself. _He's not trying to be weird on purpose._  
  
"there's an explanation to it. there's an explanation to _all_ of this. as of now i don't have the resources to figure out what it is." He pressed down on the space between your knuckles with bony fingertips whilst being oddly gentle. You swallowed. Nervousness swelling. Nobody had ever gotten so touchy with you before.  
  
"Uhm...i-is there anyone that you can...you know...call? I have a cell phone."  
  
He snorted. "kiddo, i doubt whatever data plan you have can reach contacts in the underground. but i appreciate the thought."  
  
Jeez. Everyone he knew was from underground? Oh, the questions you had for him. This had all suddenly become ten times more real. It was like if Santa crashed into your house, ate all the cookies and spoke nonchalantly about Comet and Cupid. The dizziness was getting worse.  
  
"So what then?" Your fingers twitched against his, a chill going down your back. "Are you just going to hang around me until an explanation falls from the sky?"  
  
"well. kinda. except the last part." He let you go, instead grasping for your sweater again, experimenting. "i can find an answer on my own now that i have a way to communicate with this world again. A.k.a. you."  
  
_"Again?"_  
  
"yeah."  
  
"So you used to be just fine touching things around here."  
  
"yeah."  
  
"And people could hear you, and see you. You were just like everyone else."  
  
"yeah."  
  
A pause from his end.   
  
"except, you know. a monster. still a different species and all."  
  
You couldn't imagine that kind of reality. An animated skeleton just waltzing about? Coexisting with humans? Was he suggesting that was somehow normal?  
  
"Where did you live at, Sans?"  
  
"it was close to a mountain. far from here, that i know for sure. one day i just woke up and suddenly everyone and everything was going straight through me. that was a few months ago. i've been travelling aimlessly by myself ever since."  
  
Well that took a depressing turn.  
  
"Listen," you sighed, pushing his wandering hands away, though also making sure his fuzzy slippers didn't slip from the world again. "I'd love to help you. This is weird and scary and a lot of things that I'm not comfortable with as a human, but that isn’t what makes this hard for me to do."  
  
He said nothing. You continued.  
  
"I'm just...busy every single day. Take tomorrow for example. I have work early in the morning and there’s homework from my college classes that needs doing immediately after. I don't have a computer so I use the ones in the local library. Where there's lots of...people. And silence. I'm just...in public a lot. You know? Working on stuff. It would be way too hard to cater to your needs that way. Hell, I would be asleep by now if I hadn't gone chasing that dog only to find you in the woods."  
  
"i see."  
  
"So...?" he wasn't backing off it seemed, so you approached it again with more brashness. "What are you going to do, Sans? I can't help you."  
  
"sure you can."  
  
_"…What?"_  
  
"i mean, unless i find another human who i'm able to interact with, you sorta have to. i won't stop buggin' ya either way. kinda desperate here."  
  
Before you could protest, he shifted his weight to the other foot.  
  
"if you need to get some sleep, i'll gladly get out of your hair and just pay you another visit tomorrow."  
  
Angry that you weren't give a choice in the matter, you jumped off the couch and squinted at him. Not actually feeling courage, only pretending to.  
  
"You'll _pay me another visit?"_  
  
"yeah. like i said. after i get out of your..."  
  
He reached forward and then-  
  
_Pluck._  
  
"Ow! Hey!"  
  
"hair."  
  
Sans had torn a single lock from your head and wrapped it like a ribbon around his pinky finger. He took several steps away and, to his non-surprise, did not fall through the floor again. The hair was enough to keep him afloat. So maybe it worked via DNA? He nodded, his smile widening as he turned and went to disappear out the door.  
  
"see ya around, uh...what was your name again?"  
  
Your eye twitched. "You never asked me for my name."  
  
"oh. well in that case. later."  
  
_"Sans!"_  
  
To your bewilderment, he actually stalled, only to cast you a final glance. Those tiny glowing irises burned straight into yours. He became unreadable.  
  
"be back tomorrow, sunshine."  
  
Then he was gone.  
  
Hm _, sunshine._  
  
That was a new one.


	4. The morning after, and not in a kinky way

One might assume that falling asleep after meeting what was essentially a skeleton poltergeist would be near impossible. And…yeah it was. So much to think about. So many queries drifting like jellyfish through the cerebrum. But alas, everything happened to work itself out. For once your head was atop a lumpy pillow, you thought heavily on the events of the last hour and after exhausting yourself mentally, fainted yourself to sleep.  
  
The last words on your mind were things like "kiddo" and sunshine" then suddenly it was morning.  
  
Everything hurt.  
  
_Maybe I should call in sick._  
  
You were sore. Sickly. Sun was barely peeking through the crooked blinds, uncaring of your health and simply blazing on. A headache had ensued somewhere within the six hours you'd managed the sweet embrace of slumber. Not the best think to wake up to.  
  
You then turned, eyes crescent-shaped and swollen with fatigue, only to fling yourself toward the opposite end of the bed, yelping like you'd just been stuck with a needle. A melding of reality and spiraling fantasy came crashing back down on you.  
  
Sans was looming over you from where the bedside table was, in the midst of patting the blanket down. Touching things again, it would seem. Impulsively, you tugged the sheet in your direction, hoping to hide your pajama top. Yes, there were more pressing matters at hand but the last thing you needed was a monster asking why the word OPPAI was on your shirt in all caps.  
  
"rough night?" he asked, eying the jungle that was your hair, his smile askew as if he wanted to laugh. You were already in the process of combing through it with unsteady fingers.   
  
"H-How'd you get in here?! I thought I locked the door after you left!"  
  
"just ditched the hair and flew on up."  
  
"Oh...yeah. I. Ugh. For goodness' sake," you slouched forward, rubbing your temples as the feelings of being both lost and stupid clashed like ugly watercolor. It was too much a gamble asking how long he'd been standing there watching you sleep. What if he had caught you snoring, or drooling or something? You preferred ignorance.  
  
"Is it invasive of me to ask what you did this entire time?" you looked up, cocking a brow. "I mean, where did you go?"  
  
He seemed tickled by your curiosity. There was a glint in his sockets. Brighter than usual.  
  
"not anywhere specific. just, ya know. roamed around."  
  
"Roamed around."  
  
"yeah. approached everything in a new light. knowing i can now touch whatever and whenever was pretty refreshing." He motioned out the window. "i found this building called _ten thousand lanes._ what is that? couldn't figure it out by the title."  
  
You blinked. "That's a bowling alley."  
  
"huh. always wanted to try bowling. maybe one day you and i could _give it a whirl."_  
  
"...Uh."  
  
"the possib- _alley_ -ties are endless."  
  
"Right. Anyway."  
  
You thrust the blankets back and stomped past him, readying for a beeline to the closet. Things were tense. You weren't in the mood for jokes or quips about magic or images of bowling balls tossing themselves down wooden aisles since the skeleton was invisible or the realization that you would be bald before this was all over. But then you remembered something nonsensically vital, and with a tut, pulled out a strand of your hair and gifted it to him.  
  
"Take this."  
  
Last thing you needed was him dropping like a brick down into the planet’s cockles. He seemed surprised, but went to dress his pinky with it anyway.  
  
"thanks."  
  
"I have to get dressed for work now...alright?" you stalled, not quite sure if monsters found familiarity in the concept of nakedness. Without notice, you slipped into the closet, dressing yourself in the dark.  
  
"Don't come in."  
  
"wouldn't dream of it."  
  
Seconds passed and you emerged clad in blue jeans and a shirt with your company logo tagged on front. You avoided eye contact with Sans as you crossed the room again to grab your lanyard. It was draped along your clock, which now read...  
  
"...7:58?!"  
  
Sans looked over at the pixelated numbers, puzzling.   
  
"yes?"  
  
"Shit!" Why in the world hadn't your alarm gone off?  
  
You careened into the small bathroom, tripping over a pile of clothes along the way. You rummaged through the drawers for your toothbrush, not noticing Sans had appeared at the door frame. When you looked up and found him in the reflection of the mirror, he was absentmindedly moving a tank top aside with the toe of his slipper.  
  
"seems you and i aren’t so different after all.”  
  
"Excuse me??"  
  
"nothing," he looked up. "what's got you so upset?"  
  
Your mouth was foaming with toothpaste when you coughed out a muffled, "I'm gonna be late for work!" Spit. Duck your head under the faucet to get water for rinsing. You didn't have time for mouthwash this morning. None of that princess shit. "I'm supposed to be there in two minutes! Hell I can't even get to my car that fast. Boss is gonna have my damn head!"  
  
"oh." Sans had his arms crossed. He leaned. "where do you work?"  
  
Almost hadn’t heard him. You were planning different ways to stage your death. That way you'd have a valid excuse for not turning up this morning. Then his query registered. Groaning, you pointed to the font plastered atop your chest. "It's called Cool Subject."  
  
"cool subject?" he squinted at the obnoxious text and gradients drilled into the fabric. It sounded even dorkier when he said it. Worse than Ten Thousand Lanes.  
  
"It's a retail shop in this district outside our local shopping mall. By the bowling alley we just got done discussing."  
  
"oh, well i know where that is."  
  
Congrats, skele-man. You bit your tongue, then all but jumped a mile in the air when he held his hand out for you to take. You might never get used to that. His palm belonged in a museum, not presented before you, patiently waiting.  
  
"here, i'll show you a shortcut."  
  
"A shortcut?" when he didn't relent, you cautiously placed your hand into his, freezing up when that energy from before went flourishing. Wonder if he could feel that too. His irises narrowed. One soft squeeze later and he could tell by the rigidness in your finger joints that you _really_ weren't feeling it.  
  
"if i didn't know any better, kiddo i'd say you didn't trust me."  
  
Well...yeah. Hard to say you did. So you said nothing at all.  
  
"if this makes you uncomfortable. i'll stop." He dropped his hand, the neurons tumbling away, and you felt your intrigue for the unknown spike up tenfold. "just tryin' to get you to work in the next ten seconds is all. but no matter. tryin’ to make it so that you don’t get in trouble. _no matter."_  
  
That worked.  
  
"Wait."  
  
He turned, beaming. You were nibbling, after all. No doubt whatever he had up his sleeve would involve magic. The thought both excited and terrified you. Could one be certain you weren't still dreaming?  
  
"I can't afford to miss today. So just...do whatever you can..." your skepticism didn't so much as wither when Sans came upon you again, and this time, when he gave you his hand, you took it and forced yourself into relaxation.  
  
"it's worth a shot." he began idly pinching the air. _What?_ "might not even work. i tried it before meeting you to no such luck."  
  
He circled, still joined with you, and began feeling about the space in front of him while you stared dumbfounded from behind. You considered voicing your concerns aloud when suddenly there was a clicking sound, as if his digit has snagged onto something solid, and he made a sound of approval.  
  
"perfect."  
  
He ripped his arm back, pulling with it the dimensional fabric of your world. Unsheathed beneath it, right there in the middle of your bedroom, was a wormhole the size of your fist. Like a pot of stew, it swirled with stars and other bits of cosmic matter. At its center, there was an image of something familiar that only grew in size as he pulled farther at its edges.  
  
Like a bubble, it swelled larger and larger, until you found you were looking right into the plaza near the bowling alley. Bigger. Now it was the size of a door. Tangible. Sans stepped through it mindlessly and tugged you along.  
  
Passing through the portal brought about you an existential crisis. Once you were on the other side, you would've collapsed had Sans not caught you in time.  
  
"woah, careful there."  
  
Now you were in a skeleton's arms. That didn’t help the sour feeling in your tummy very much. Somewhere from behind, the shortcut he'd created sealed itself shut before blipping out of existence.  
  
Your legs were like jelly, barely supporting your weight when Sans carefully re-positioned you to stand. You looked forward. His face was only inches away. For a skull, it sure had a lot of animation about it. Was that concern you saw?  
  
You quickly brought yourself back down to earth, turning behind you and pinpointing your workplace across the way. It was only about a half minute jog. Much better than what would have been had Sans not intervened.  
  
"Thank you," you staggered. Clearly shaken still. The monster shrugged.  
  
"consider it my way of apologizing."  
  
You blanked. An apology? "What for?"  
  
He became somewhat sly before responding.  
  
"i’m the one who turned your alarm off."  
  
Eyes like saucers. You almost jumped him right there.  
  
"WHY?"  
  
"came in right as it started beeping. you were saying stuff in your sleep. i flipped it off. let you continue."  
  
Again.  
  
"WHY?"  
  
"'cause it was funny."  
  
"There is NOTHING funny about that!"  
  
"i was smiling."  
  
“You’re ALWAYS smiling! That's just your face!”  
  
Sans chuckled, took your hair from his finger and let it fall to the pavement. The flapping on his scarf ceased as wind no longer recognized it. Now he was hovering.  
  
"have fun at work. i'll come back later for you."  
  
_"Fine."_  
  
As he ghosted away, through buildings and far out of sight, you stumbled toward the aforementioned Cool Subject. Not able to handle life.  
  
What on earth could you have been saying in your sleep that he found so chucklesome?  
  
And why had he stood there and watched your sleeping body for over an hour?  
  
Shit, were you blushing?


	5. You work at a bootleg Hot Topic and you hate any mention of "the back."

When asking random people whether or not they like their job, the responses can greatly vary. That's a given. But the best, most memorable instances consist of those who lie about liking what they do for a living. It's almost a sub-genre in-of itself. Because. Okay. Some lie because they're afraid their managers will get onto them. Be like, "Hey, why are you telling potential customers that you're miserable here and I'm literally the devil? Does getting fired sound good to you?" And others lie because they're in straight up denial.  
  
You were somewhere amidst the last two. You hated your job. But on the surface, for you, there was no better paradise than being in that cramped little store, where the walls were glossy and black, and music that made you want to pierce your tongue and regret at least seven tattoos spilled from the speakers at all hours.   
  
And sometimes you felt uncomfortable even thinking bad thoughts about Cool Subject. As if the boss might overhear.  
  
At least today was slow and the majority of the mass clientele (teenagers) were absent. There were just a few kids here and there; why they weren't in school was a mystery for another day. It was now 1 PM and a father had arrived with his two sons, straying off to eye the band t-shirts plastered up all the way to the ceiling. He just stood there, silently remembering the good ol' days while his little blonde crotch dumplings scattered into the store like it were a playground. Any other day you might have approached them and asked if they needed help finding anything. That was your job, after all. But you were far too busy watching the clock on screen, thinking about magic skeletons and wondering why they wore such heavy clothes. You nearly shrieked when the aforementioned sun child slammed a Jack Skellington shirt down on the counter.  
  
"Miss? I'm going to get this. And uhm, where are your plushies at?"  
  
It was almost adorable how small his voice was, but a cynical you kept all that at bay. You pointed left. "Right over by the jewelry stand." Using the term _jewelry_ loosely. It was mostly plastic gemstones made with the kind of metal that tinged your finger green.  
  
"I already looked around there," he clarified, gaze sweeping down and away from yours. He was a shy one. "I couldn't find the Five Nights at Freddy's stuff."  
  
"Oh," you mindlessly picked the shirt up and scanned it into the POS. "We're sold out of those right now. Same with the keychains and blind bags."  
  
"When do you think you'll get more?" he looked up, eyes big and hopeful.   
  
"No clue, kiddo. Shipment ain't my job." You winced. _Kiddo._ Like a watermark Sans appeared in mind more vibrant than before. With shaking hands, you went to fold the shirt up and place it in a bag. "That'll be $14.09."  
  
Now he seemed distrustful. "The sign said the shirts were "12.99."  
  
"Tax exists."  
  
Silence, and then.  
  
_"Dad!"_  
  
The man by the band tees was whisked away from his nostalgia high, alerted to the three foot high, yellow-haired reason that he couldn't follow those types of dreams anymore. His son was tapping his foot impatiently as his parent came hauling ass over to the counter.  
  
"Dad, I need two more dollars."  
  
"Well son, doesn't that defeat the purpose of you learning how to handle money?"  
  
"I didn't even want to get this!" he pointed to the bag now made lumpy by Tim Burton paraphernalia. "I was gonna get a Five Nights toy but the lady says they're out!"  
  
"Oh?" dad-man looked at you. "Are you really out?"  
  
"Yes sir," you faked a sloppy smile, not quite sure if he was accusing you of lying. "Fresh out until further notice."  
  
And then, he uttered those dreaded six words.  
  
"Can you check in the back?"  
  
_Fuck._ It almost sounded like a challenge from him.  
  
"Sure thing,” you were trying not to speak through your teeth. “Please excuse me."  
  
Would people never realize that 'the back' was just filled with empty cardboard boxes, spare bags for merchandise and a mini fridge with Chinese food no one would claim even after it went on well past its expiration date? (Seriously though, you needed to own up to that eventually.)  
  
Taking the lanyard from your neck, you used a key hooked at the middle and unlocked the storage room door.  
  
Boss would never let you tell customers the truth. Whenever anyone asked an employee to check the back, said employee would leave, go to the back, stand there and dumbly count the seconds before venturing out to tell the customer the very same thing that was already affirmed. The back was empty. There was not any mystical portal where you could just reach in and pull out whatever their heart desired. Which, given this crowd, it would likely be a gimmicky backpack, a tank top with The Little Mermaid except made into a corpse, or anything at all that had fucking skeletons on it-  
  
"yo."  
  
"Jesus H!" startled, you slammed the door shut behind you, glaring at the monster residing just a few inches below you. He beamed.  
  
"Sans! What-How'd you get in here?!"  
  
"through a mystical portal."  
  
Leave it up to the tiny skeleton to perpetuate myths. If Cool Subject were to ever get its slimy mitts on someone like Sans, he’d be on the front of every tee 'til dynasties fell and fish learned to fly.  
  
"Someone's going to see you in here! Are you insane?"  
  
He mindlessly scratched at the area under his chin with bony fingertips. "nah. remember sunshine, only one person in this universe can see me and that's you."   
  
Oh no. Your face. It was heating up like the good ol’ _sun_ was shining directly on it.  
  
"But look there!" you motioned toward the floor, where his slippers were firmly planted. "You're here right next to me, so that means you can touch things. You'd be able to touch people too, right?"  
  
"i think so. don't think they'd be able to see or hear me though." He looked away, snickering at the thought. "wow. now that i think 'bout it, that’d actually be a good party trick. just throw a blanket over me and when you pull it up and nothin’s there-"  
  
"I thought you were going to come back after my shift was over." You looked at your wrist, remembering too late that you didn't have a watch. “You’re two hours early.”  
  
"don't you get a lunch break?"  
  
"I would if someone hadn't made me late this morning," you eyeballed him. He appeared not the least bit guilty, despite being the culprit.  
  
"shame. i was hoping we could find a place with some good ketchup."  
  
Your brows furrowed. Was he suggesting you guys go out to eat together? In what world would that make a lick of sense?  
  
You had to step away as suddenly he was casually moving past you.  
  
"or mustard. i ain't picky."  
  
Then he gave the door a couple solid knocks. You nearly jumped from your skin.  
  
"Woah, are you out of your mind?!"  
  
"nah, just testin'."  
  
You looked to the door, expecting it to fly open at any moment with your puffy-eyed manager emerging from the other side. "Sans! There's people out there! No t _esting!"_ these sentences tumbled from you in a fierce hush of words.  
  
When you averted your gaze back to him, he was directly before you. And I mean _directly._ The cores of his eyes were like stars having collapsed eons ago, and unless you were mistaken, the little white lights seemed dimmer than before. You swallowed. He’d become so intense. Almost scary.  
  
"what, you mean like that guy out there?"  
  
A single one of your brows lifted. "You’re talking about the dad? The one who sent me back here?"  
  
"yeah. him.” He looked away. “guess he'll be missin' you, huh."  
  
In the short time you had come to understand Sans and his tone, you couldn't help but notice the little spike of acid he tossed into that one.  
  
"What do you mean by _that?"_  
  
"caught him watchin' you when you walked away." his sockets molded to become slightly more narrow. The plastered smile seemed to strain.  
  
"very _attentively."_  
  
Right off you understood the implication, and weren't quite sure whether to heed the small phantom of a warning or call him crazy for the umpteenth time.  
  
"I mean, I'm looking for toys meant for his child. I imagine he would have some interest in where I was going."  
  
"hm. i see. _interest._ emphasis on that word."  
  
Ouch. Touchy.  
  
"Are you doing alright?" before awaiting a response, you interjected once more. "Wait. When did you even catch him staring at me? Were you watching from somewhere?"  
  
A few moments of uncomfortable quiet ensued before Sans challenged you with a mischievous grin.  
  
"next time you're busy, try looking _up,"_ he stated proudly, finger lifted in the aforementioned direction. "you'd be in for a bit of a shock."  
  
"Oh Christ. Were you hovering above me this entire time?!"  
  
"more like i was just poking my head through the ceiling and looking down. was probably hilarious. i must've looked like some kinda wack-a-mole."  
  
"…I'm going back out."  
  
"okay," his shoulders slouched. He seemed sour again. "can i have another hair?"  
  
"Absolutely not.” Seemed weird to deny him a basic freedom, but he was acting strange and your trust had slightly dwindled. “Wait until I leave."  
  
He reached out and pinched the cloth of your shirt, and it took everything in you not to flinch away.  
  
_"suit_ yourself."  
  
So it was all for the sake of a joke. Guess that was relieving.  
  
Out the storage room you went. Looking up to meet eyes with the father proved slightly awkward for you now. Surely Sans was reading too far into his actions. He wasn't actually checking you out, was he? That was your job. _Literally._ So why did you feel so small?  
  
And then the customer winked.  
  
Great.  
  
"Hey don't worry about it, hun," he pointed to the bag from before, then waved to show dismissal. "We'll just come back to get those Weekend at Bernie’s toys another day.”  
  
Splendid.  
  
So that trip to _the back_ was all for nothing. And that wink, the pet name and the assurance that he would return meant Sans might have been right.  
  
You feigned investment, returning to your place at the register and bidding him goodbye, but not before tacking on a very empty plea for him to visit the store again in the future. You didn't actually care. Rather, it was mandatory to say that kind of stuff.  
  
You watched his backside as it shrank away, his children on either side of him. That's probably how he watched after you. Probably meant nothing.  
  
And then, dissolving through his body was none other than Sans the skeleton, who must've been standing there, obscured from view until the three individual sacks of human material all coasted through him like air. He had his hands placed atop his hips, and he was staring you down, a brow bone quirked.  
  
You had to take a step back, for you were shocked. Overwhelmed. It would have been scary to catch anyone eyeing you that way, especially given the last exchange. But to melt through them like they were nothing? Come out on the other end, existence unbeknownst to the people who had made contact with him? Glaring at you like you were something to be speared?  
  
Foreign. Alien. _Monster._  
  
You excused yourself, retreated to _the back,_ and then to the bathroom where you emptied the contents of your stomach down into the bottom of a toilet bowl.


	6. The skele-man drinks ketchup and oh GOD Sans can you not? Seriously Sans it looks like blood. Chill please. Wipe your mouth.

The next two hours was like a drive-by shooting. Quick, weird and totally surreal in a my-life-is-flashing-before-my-eyes kind of way. After upchucking, you were fine for the most part. Spent a few minutes washing your face off and spitting the taste down into the sink before leaving the bathroom altogether. Sans was waiting for you outside, the illusionary matter of his leg wedging into that of a cardboard box. The sight alone had that queasy feeling coming back with a vengeance, and after demanding that the very confused skeleton vacate the premises and wait for your shift to end, you ventured out, went back to the register and pretended none of it ever happened.  
  
Who knew what Sans did in that time between then and now. You hadn't caught a trace of him. Made no effort to look for him, too.  
  
 _Whack-a-mole more like I'm gonna slap-the-soul out of you if I see your stupid skull floating about._  
  
When the time on the computer read three, you clocked out at once, sped from Cool Subject without so much as acknowledging the wandering gazes of your coworkers, much less tossing half-assed goodbyes their way. As you absently moved forward across the sunbleached pavement, leaving work behind, a voice cropped up from your left.  
  
"i said i was sorry."  
  
"Oh did you? Couldn't hear," you still wouldn't look at him. Temper was flaring, and with it, adrenaline. "Was too busy throwing up a lunch I didn't even have to notice you apologizing."  
  
"i was telling you sorry before you made me leave the room," Sans physically intercepted you, forcing you to stop dead where you were and stare into those deep, deep eye sockets of his. "i didn't mean to scare ya, or make you sick. lemme make it up to you."  
  
"Sans, please. You've done enough as it is. I just need some time alone. How can I be expected to function when a poltergeist is literally hovering around me all day?"  
  
"ah come on. you're nauseous because you didn't eat last night, this morning or this afternoon. can't say i blame ya for feelin' ill. and it's my fault."  
  
He held his hand out for you to take, unfazed by your wariness. "what do ya say we grab a bite? you and me. my treat."  
  
"With what money, _skeleton."_  
  
"your money. i'm treatin' ya with my company, _human."_  
  
You were about to launch headfirst into an argument with the smug little monster when it suddenly hit you. Sans had probably gone much longer than you had without food, given the circumstances. Did his kind eat? Were his dieting intervals similar to that of a surface dweller's? It almost felt rude to ask.  
  
"I...take it you're hungry," was all you could say. Something in Sans' expression changed. A flicker of desire, perhaps.  
  
"don't need food, really. more like, i just miss being able to taste it."  
  
"I see. Then uh, let's just go back to my apartment. It isn’t worth explaining to anyone why I’m talking to myself in a public restaurant."  
  
"alright." Sans proceeded to puncture a hole in spacetime before pulling it back like a tin can, revealing a portal into your living room that was framed by the cosmos from before.  
  
"after you."  
  
"Christ!" you scanned the area around you, made sure there were no onlookers present before diving into the room on the other side. Sans entered after you; his front was a total contrast to yours: casual and nonchalant, as if it were any other stroll on an autumn day. When the opening sealed, and you had taken a moment to familiarize yourself with the new environment, you shoved Sans' shoulder. Too late did you realize it probably seemed ultra mean-spirited.  
  
"Sans! You can't do that kind of stuff out in the open! Someone could see you!"  
  
"nah kiddo. they'd only see _you."_  
  
"Yeah. They'd see me. Stepping through a wormhole and disappearing into nothingness. Because that's a totally normal method of travel in the human world. Cars? What are those? And planes? Psh. So last century."  
  
Your sass left the monster in contemplative silence. While he stood there grasping for a response, you made your way to the disheveled kitchen, hoping he wouldn't comment on the stacks of dirty dishes lying here and there. From your pantry you withdrew a bottle of ketchup, shaking it several times to make sure all that pale, watery nonsense that sometimes came out the end was well churned in with the rest of the mix.   
  
"i hear sloshing."  
  
Ah of course, Sans couldn't see past the counters where your coffee maker and microwave were. Too short, therefore your current actions were a mystery. You stepped out from hiding, the bottle in tow.  
  
"You hear _ketchup."_  
  
Sans was already reaching for the bottle, expression relaxed but grabby fingers speaking a different story. Almost amused, you handed it to him, making sure to not step too far away, and watched in awe as he flipped open the cap and guzzled down the red contents. Without...opening his mouth. And it somehow went through his teeth. Was he holding eye contact with you? You counted to five and the bottle had become totally clear. Empty. He handed it back to you, wiping the stains off his teeth with the back of his sleeve. You realized too late that your jaw had fallen.  
  
"not as good as the ketchup from home but it still hit the spot. thanks, kiddo."  
  
Note to self. Buy more ketchup next time you go grocery shopping.  
  
"Is that really all you need?" you went to discard the trash when you heard him humming quietly from behind.  
  
"'s all i need."  
  
"Because I could easily fry up a hot dog for you…or ya know…anything…if you'd like solid, chewable food to go with it. Or maybe we could go through a drive-thru? It's not like anyone would be able to tell I have a skeleton in my passenger seat."  
  
"woah there, kiddo. you're talkin' next level stuff. i appreciate the thought but really, i'm more worried about you." His head cocked. "what are you gonna eat?"  
  
"Oh, I dunno. Probably cup noodles. Can't afford to go all out right now. I was just willing to make an exception for my guest."  
  
Naturally, the sentence had slipped from you without time to analyze it. His grin seemed to falter.  
  
"that's...kind of you."  
  
"Heh.” Your face was red again. “Guess so."  
  
You went to fill up a paper cup of dried pasta and veggies with water, all the way up to the line near the brim. You gave Sans a strand of hair and he quickly made himself at home on the futon. While waiting for your noodles to cook, your eyes flickered to him every now and then. You weren't used to having people over. Having a monster lounge right there on the couch you'd fallen asleep on countless times was...jarring to say the least. With an elbow propped on the counter, you leaned forward, bashfully studying him.   
  
"So is that all I have to give you? Just some hair?"  
  
"huh? oh," Sans had been busying his gaze with the window, where the blinds were drawn apart and you each got a great view of your dirty, untidy balcony. "yeah. i guess. well...actually no. not necessarily."  
  
"Thanks for clearing that up," you quipped, and he snickered. For a second there you felt comfortable in the situation.  
  
"it probably works with anything that has your dna. hair, skin, blood, saliva, urine."  
  
"Gross. I'm about to eat you know," your mouth was dragging at the corners. It didn't help that the broth for your soup would be yellow after adding the flavored powder. Sans found humor in your retort.  
  
"guess hair is probably the most accessible thing to get from you right now. we'll just have to stick with that."  
  
The microwave dinged, and Sans looked past you, quizzical. Did he think it was a bomb or something?  
  
"I do have a hairbrush," you said over your shoulder, retrieving the cup noodles. The flavoring hadn't been added yet but the smell alone had your stomach rumbling, eager for a taste of cheapo dinner. "You could go nuts with that. Would probably last you a lot longer." Not to mention it would prevent impending baldness.  
  
"sounds great."  
  
You were seated at the tiny dining table that fell lopsided and rocked back and forth if you put unsteady weight on it. A napkin was at your right, a cup of tap water with some ice cubes on the left. Sans had found the remote and was idly flipping through channels on cable tv, polite enough to not watch you go to chow town. It was a little embarrassing, after all, how your eating was akin to someone opening an airplane window. Who knew you were so hungry.  
  
You chewed and swallowed the most recent mouthful, thinking back to the ketchup on his teeth and shivering. "I mean, if you need me to...I guess I could...er..." you twisted your fork into the noodles, feeling uneasy.  
  
"you could what?" you had his attention. No longer did he care about the lives of the people on television, nor who the father was.  
  
"Find a way to give you my blood?" your tone hitched, and his eye ridges raised in obvious surprise. "You know, as a more permanent way to keep you in touch with the world? I could prick my finger and just leave a drop of blood on your jacket or something. Or you could consume it? I don't know...how it works…"  
  
Despite the mechanics of it, Sans was intrigued nonetheless.  
  
"hey now. what's with the uncertainty?"  
  
 _Ah gee._ "Well if you must know, talking about exchanging blood with a monster is not exactly the easiest topic for someone like me to mull over. I’m just trying to be helpful but it still is a little weird," you grumbled, stabbing into your noodles again. Sans watched as you wove them like a spool on your fork. He seemed to be thinking about something else before being brought back down to earth.  
  
"two things, sunshine. one, i don't want to take your blood. don't want you hurting yourself for a skell like me. even if it is just a prick on the finger," he paused, leaning forward in his seat so that his concentration on you was heightened. "two, i'd love it if you weren't scared of me. not like i'm gonna gobble you up or anything. you probably don't taste like ketchup anyway."  
  
"Er..."   
  
"it was a joke. not one of my best ones, admittedly. point is, monsters don’t drink blood. or consume flesh if you’re worried about the _skin_  thing. i'm not gonna eat ya."  
  
"Good. I'm glad," you sighed.  
  
"won't even bite unless you ask me to."  
  
"Good. I'm gla-wait huh? Come again?" you had dropped the fork with a loud clatter unto the glass table. Sans was all smiles despite your very obvious horror.  
  
"'nother joke. just tryin' to loosen you up."  
  
"It isn't working."  
  
"i can tell. listen, kiddo."  
  
Now he was up, advancing you with a very laidback swagger but you couldn't help but feel yourself shrink under his shadow. Didn't help that you were still sitting down so now he had a height advantage.  
  
"don't think of me as a monster. i know that this is a lot for you to get used to all at once, and you can't trust someone like me right away. especially since in _this_ timeline, monsters are painted to be all teeth and horns. probably don't even teach the kids about us in school anymore."  
  
You couldn’t argue with that one.  
  
“you should see me as more of a…” he thought for a second, his white pupils lolling to the ceiling. “…bodyguard of sorts.”  
  
‘A bodyguard?” you almost snorted. “A bodyguard that people can’t even see?”  
  
“that’s not the point. what matters is that i have to keep close to ya anyway, right?”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“and you said yourself you have to be in public a lot, right?”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“then it’s settled. anyone tries to mess with ya, they’ll have to deal with a skeleton from a different dimension. won’t even know what hit em.”  
  
The odds of a situation like that arising were slim to none, but the most you could do was shrug. It wasn't the worst idea ever.  
  
“I guess that works.”  
  
“yeah. consider it my way of repaying you for your hospitality. not many humans would have agreed to cooperate with someone like me.”  
  
“And for the ketchup, right?” you smirked, tensing when you felt him ruffle the top of your head like you were some puppy. You looked up from under, to find he was wearing a lot of fondness.  
  
“yes. for the ketchup too.”  
  
There was a strange moment just then where you both stared at each other, his fingers tangled in your scalp and then your leering ass gawking at him like a lemur in the headlights, with an empty cup of noodles on standby. While the initial conflict was still very much present, a part of you was slowly, ever so slowly, beginning to relax with him there. That anxious feeling in your gut was all but going away.  
  
“So uh, how does the library sound?” you suggested. Sans’ grin grew at the edges.  
  
“sounds like nothing at all. you can’t talk in libraries, remember?”  
  
Okay but that was still going to take some getting used to.


	7. Sans makes sure to whisper in the library but no one can hear him anyway so what's even the point

It isn't a normal thing, watching a skeleton fly airborne through the clouds from your rearview mirror.  
  
The flight seemed rather aimless but you rest assured he was following you. Though, perhaps that wasn't exactly a comforting thought in its own right. No more than remembering he was a monster, capable of magic on a scale of ridiculous grandeur, and here you were unable to prove his existence to a _single person._  
  
Cue flashback.  
  
"I'm not going through another portal."  
  
Sans had already been squeezing a small pixel of air. A crackling sound started, like the kind when you press your hands into a static television screen, when he stopped and turned to look at you. His brow bones were raised, grin slightly challenging.  
  
"got a problem with shortcuts, kiddo?"  
  
"More like I can't stomach anymore magic for at least twenty four hours. Not after what happened at work," you placed a palm on your belly for emphasis. "I'm opting for the human method of travel. Meaning I'm going to drive and you can't stop me."  
  
Sans, reluctant as he was, seemed sympathetic before drawing his hand away from what would have become another dimensional hole in your flat.  
  
"way to _steer_ me from my intentions."  
  
Blah.  
  
After suggesting the two of you ride to the library _together,_ Sans was immediately curious about the car model you drove. Was it red, shiny? Did it have chrome spinners and flashing lights at the bottom?   
  
The look on his face when you took him out into the lot and presented to him your underwhelming Honda-civic was almost priceless. He made some remark about the headlights being slanted like villainous eyes before nope-ing right out of there.  
  
"i'm just gonna fly," he had said. Like nothing else in the world could make more sense. Ditching your lock of hair, he lifted off the ground and toward the graying skies, orbiting the complex as you grumbled under your breath about a plane swooping down and hitting him.  
  
And so here he was, on your tail, in the air, as you both cleared Aberration Pointe and made your way to the library seated just a few comfortable blocks away. On days where gas money was tight you actually preferred walking, though there was some chance involved in that as people should never venture great distances alone.  
  
_Maybe that won't be a problem now that I have Sans?_  
  
Ah but how did he even stand a chance against real-world loonies? He was puny, out of shape even by a skeleton's standards. His monstrous qualties might have frightened you yesterday, and sure they'd likely make a baby cry. But as far as being threatening goes, what was the most he could do? Pun someone do death? The thought had you snorting as you pulled up to the library and stationed your Honda just outside the entrance.  
  
As you met with the sidewalk hugging the large, red brick building's perimeter, Sans idly floated down to your level. This was made evident by his shadow suddenly melting into existence once he was within close enough proximity. Would others be able to see the mark of his being on the pavement? You weren’t about to go around bothering patrons with that type of question.  
  
"how long will ya be in here?" the skeleton asked as you passed through the double doors. When you threw him back what anyone could mistake as a peace sign, he merely puzzled.  
  
"two?" he slipped through the door before it could hit him. "two what?"  
  
You were only half paying attention as your mind wandered unto the thought of what capacity of visitors would be in today. You lifted another finger lazily, joining it with the others. Totally unaware of your vagueness.  
  
_"three?"_ There was a laugh building in his voice. "okay now you're messing with me."  
  
Once affirming the coast was clear, you looked over at him, taking the fingers and folding them down so that only one was left at your lips. Sans nodded, bringing his voice to a whisper.  
  
"right. gotcha. quiet in libraries at all times," he pointed to a sign on the wall that read those exact words. You shook your head. More like, there was going to be no talking to him from your end because this was a public area and people would think you were either a childish nutter who never let go of her imaginary friend, or plagued by schizophrenia.  
  
Once you found many desks lined up with computer monitors in place, you got comfortable at one on the farthest edge before logging in all the necessary information to your college database. There was a quiz that needed taking. A peer review that needed submitting. Man school was just dandy.  
  
Your hands madly dashed along the keyboard for a good hour, your eyes completely locked onto everything happening on screen. Sans, politely enough, made no effort to bother you and only at times did you spot him grazing your peripheral. Never did he show up to bug you for a hair, and there were no annoying questions that he absolutely had to ask despite the circumstances. He seemed to busy himself with all the books stacked up to the ceiling, levitating like a lost balloon. At first it was hard not to think about his presence there, but as other students, salary-men, and homeless people came and went through the various rooms without disruption or an unknown exchange with the skeleton, you began to finally relax.  
  
Or at least, that was what you had suspected until there was a nudge on your shoulder. You might have flinched the hardest anyone's ever flinched in the history of mankind.  
  
"Don't sneak up on me like that!" you hissed at Sans, holding your chest as the adrenaline died away.  
  
"Sorry, cute stuff. Couldn't help myself."  
  
Wait. That's not what Sans sounds like. And that isn't something Sans would say.  
  
Slowly turning, you found yourself locking eyes with a familiar face. You might have visibly deflated just then.  
  
"Oh. Hey Marcus."  
  
_Marcus_ smiled back at you. His freckles became prominent on cheeks too rosy for their own good.  
  
"See you're still jumpy as ever."  
  
"This is the first time I’ve looked away from the screen since getting here, cut me some slack," you gave your digital homework a longing glare. Marcus laughed, even though you hadn't said anything remarkably funny.  
  
"Are you almost done?"  
  
"Can't really tell yet. Why?" you already knew what was coming but feigned ignorance, finding it hard to look at him a second longer.  
  
"I was thinking we could hang out, mono y mono. The coffee shop next door is still open for at least another hour."  
  
Oh god. This again. Seriously, Marcus was just some guy who happened to go to the same school and studied in the same library. He'd been at this for months. Just wouldn't take a hint.  
  
It wasn't a lie to say you still had homework to do and it would be irresponsible to stop before it was all finished. What you kept confidential, however, was that the estimated time remaining was around ten minutes, give or take.  
  
"Sorry, I'm gonna have to pass," your shoulders slumped. You pretended to be bummed out. "With education a top priority and all, I can't exactly just abandon my studies after dedicating so much time to them. Besides, it would be bad for me to have caffeine this late at night. I'll be bouncing off the walls 'til dawn."  
  
"Well, we don't have to have coffee," Marcus leaned closer, and you could've sworn he winked but convinced yourself it was just a bad twitch. "We could split a cheesecake or something."  
  
"There was a first part to my explanation, dude," your distress came through with punching gloves. Marcus withdrew himself before emitting a long sigh.  
  
"Guess so. Maybe some other time. See you around?"  
  
You nodded. There wasn't much choice as far as _seeing him around_ was concerned either way.  
  
You watched as he excused himself, backed away before swiveling to disappear through the exit. You nearly face-planted when you found that Sans had been behind him, only now made visible. You were going to playfully scold him for poking around uninvited, but stopped yourself short. He seemed...kind of upset?  
  
"is everything alright?" His smile was almost nonexistent. Still whispering.  
  
"Huh? O-Oh, yeah," you looked around before responding. "Just give me a few minutes here and I'll be finished up."  
  
"need me to stay by you?"  
  
You couldn't look away from the screen, but you found it slightly discomforting how stern he seemed.  
  
"No, that's alright. Thank you, though."  
  
"you sure?"  
  
"yes. very sure."  
  
Sans evaded the area without a second to dawdle, but that feeling of being watched by him never passed away.  
  
(-)  
  
"So you've decided to give my stupid little car a chance after all."  
  
Sans was opposite from you on the passenger side of the vehicle, eyes full of disdain as they wandered sideways along its build.  
  
"guess it could be worse than this. and i figured your company'll make up for it, yeah?"  
  
"Sure. If you think so. Now get in before someone sees me talking to myself and takes me to a madhouse."  
  
Sans accepted the very mild order and soon enough the two of you were inside the car together. You side-eyed the little skeleton as he masterfully fastened his seatbelt, reclined the seat and went for the radio to play some smooth tunes. It was as if he'd done this a thousand times.  
  
The drive home was uncomfortably quiet. The skies became this indigo that deepened more and more until stars bobbed up and out from hiding. Sans had his fingers tapping on his lap, the other hand pulling mindlessly at the scarf around his neck. The red of it was breaking all contrast; he seemed concentrated on the world outside the window and honestly the sight of him like that was like a painting. The station he chose played songs that were sleepy, melancholy and _blue_ if you were to ever describe music with a color. As much as it made your everything sink, it was strangely relaxing. Intoxicating even. You hadn't thought to say anything at all, until Sans broke the silence himself.  
  
"feel like there's a lot on your mind when it comes to me. inquiries and such. you'd probably say them all at once but there's a risk of you bursting."  
  
His bright white pupils found your side profile. "we're stuck together here for an indefinite amount of time. so how about we ask those questions one at a time? one for each day."  
  
"Well that's an awfully slow approach, don't you think?" you braked at a red light. The atmosphere of the car became ominous under its hue. When he didn't answer, you tried again. "And what's this _we_ business?"  
  
"simple. i have questions for you too. that's fair, right? for us to take turns?"  
  
The light was green now. You choked on a curse as someone illegally fled from the opposite end of the intersection before soaking in the arrangement Sans was proposing.  
  
"I guess."  
  
"cool. I’ll go first."  
  
Oh this had to be good. You readied yourself for anything.  
  
"who was that guy at the library?"  
  
Oh.  
  
“your boyfriend?"  
  
And yet somehow you weren't ready for that one.   
  
"You mean Marcus? No way. He's just a friend."  
  
"funny. i don't recall friends being the kind of people you actively avoid at all costs."  
  
"Right. He uh…” Man, was it hot in here or what? “Well, he's just some dude I barely know but I'm friendly towards. He's been trying to score a coffee date since day one. Maybe he's desperate. Maybe I'm just that adorable. There’s no way of knowing."  
  
It was a joke. One that even had you proudly snickering. But it all quickly dissipated when you found not an ounce of amusement in the monster's expression. And you had thought he loved jokes.  
  
"do i need to take care of him?"  
  
"Woah what?!" you almost flew off the road in shock. "You mean like beat him up?"  
  
"with your permission, of course."  
  
"No, Sans. You can't beat him up. Think of the trouble we would get into. The questions people would have. _Can_ you even beat someone up?" You looked away from the lane ahead of you to ogle at him. "How would you go about making that happen?"  
  
The seriousness died on the spot, birthing a snicker.  
  
"is that your question for me today, sunshine?"  
  
"No. I take it back," you turned away. It definitely had your curiosity but it wasn't that important. "I'm wondering something else."  
  
"go on then. shoot."  
  
"Where'd you get the scarf?"  
  
Something within your gut insisted that you couldn't go another day wondering, even when it might have been the most miniscule thing in the universe. And yet, Sans seemed paler after the question was said aloud, which wouldn't have made sense as he was without skin.  
  
When he looked away from you, you proceeded to stare forward again, feeling awful for even asking about the immaculate clothing piece as it clearly bothered him.  
  
But Sans had made a deal. One you presumed mattered to him. For once he had taken a moment to compose himself, four words slipped through his teeth that all but changed the name of the game.  
  
"i have a brother."


	8. The monster gets really real at 9 PM on a Tuesday night. So real that not a single pun is said in this chapter. Yeah. That real.

Things took a turn for the gloomy and doomy after that. Before you had time to press the small monster for more information, he insisted, quite lifelessly, that the two of you should wait to 'get back.' To your apartment, you assumed, and in silence you kept loyal to his wishes. All the while, several theories and accusations zipped through your head on nonparallel paths like fairies after a long night of partying. It was all very maddening. You caught yourself looking around out the windows several times, as if expecting to find another one. Another skeleton just the same as Sans, in the sky or halfway through the ground.  
  
By the time you had parked crookedly outside your flat and made your way toward your specific unit, Sans had begun to stall, and for the first time in an agonizing five minutes, he spoke.  
  
"not taking the stairs again," he quipped. "way too dangerous for the likes of me."  
  
 _Really, Sans. How dangerous we talkin' here. You're a ghost to these stairs and you take absolutely zero falling damage._  
  
But you humored him, pretended you were too dumb to pry on the minute components of his suggestions. Sans melted through the brick wall at a weird angle, disappearing somewhere presumably on the second floor. Once you were at the door of your flat, pushing it open you found something on the other side had collided with it. As you moved through the newfound gap, Sans staggered away, cupping one side of his face. Jesus you had banged right into him.  
  
"Oh god!" you reached for him before recoiling. "Are you alright?"  
  
"heh, yeah," he prodded his left eye socket before waving it off. The pupil was still there. Comforting to know you hadn’t blinded him.  
  
"was just checkin' out the little glass marble."  
  
"You mean the peephole?"  
  
"yeah. that thing."  
  
"And?"   
  
"you looked weird from it."  
  
“I see.”  
  
“no, _i see.”_  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“you looked like a bulldog.”  
  
"...Anyway."  
  
It was somewhat comforting to know his sense of "humor" was still intact despite the otherwise complete shift in tone. Dropping your bag somewhere off-center from both of you, you crossed the room, took a seat at the futon, and tensed when you noticed Sans hot on your tail, moving to take the cushion beside yours. So much for inviting him to have a seat, what with him being two steps ahead of the game and all. He kicked up his legs so that they banged against the coffee table, his arms splayed out behind him. When you judgingly eyeballed him, his irises darted away.  
  
"feels good to sit down."  
  
"Yeah I can imagine."  
  
One of his legs stretched and the middle bones cracked. What was once minor annoyance became grotesque horror. Not that you had ever a problem with joints popping. But _naked_ joints?  
  
"Look I was going to let you speak whenever you felt ready to, but if that's what you're going to be doing to pass the time," you motioned to his kneecap, wincing when he laughed.  
  
"just makin' myself at home is all."  
  
"This isn't your-" you stopped yourself, breathing deep through your nasal passage. _Don't make me say something awkward like that._ "Sans..."  
  
"nah it's cool. i get it. you're uptight because we're super close, physically speaking."  
  
"I...what?...You’re not even-ah!" your shoulders knitted up to your neck when you felt something made of hard material play with your earlobe. You glared. The hand belonged to Sans.  
  
"don't wanna share your place with your new bone-friend."  
  
He was pinching and rolling the skin between his fingers. The bones were cold, and somewhat clammy. It sent an uncomfortable tremor down your spine; uncomfortable because it wasn't premeditated at all. You presumed Sans was merely trying to be playful, and it just was coming across the worst way imaginable.  
  
"It isn't that-"  
  
"well, hate to break it to ya," the pinching had become painful, _"kiddo."_  
  
It wasn't malicious. You knew that much. There was still a lot of stress behind his power. You looked to him. His grin had begun to waver.  
  
"you're the only one i got."  
  
A line so generic and likely heard a million different times across various formats. Yet somehow it stole your breath away, like someone had just professed you were the most important package of bone and flesh the universe had to offer.  
  
"Your only friend, right?"  
  
"my only anything."  
  
Well. If those words didn't send the message home, that steely glaze wearing his irises down sure as hell did.  
  
"alright. you've been patient. i think it's only fair i reward with you with a lil somethin' ‘bout myself."  
  
"Well...it isn't really about you, is it," you corrected. "It's about a family member of yours. Another separate person."  
  
"yes, however..." Sans looked across the room, vacancy claiming him.  
  
"...that person was a part of me."  
  
(-)  
  
  
Papyrus and Sans had been together since the beginning.  
  
(-)  
  
“Wait. _Papyrus?”_  
  
Sans wasn’t necessarily baffled by your interjection, but he paused to send an unreadable expression your way.  
  
“you got a problem or somethin’.”  
  
“No, it’s just…are _all_ skeletons named after fonts?”  
  
“dunno. are all humans really ugly from the other end of a peephole?”  
  
“What kind of question is that?”  
  
“my sentiments exactly.  
  
(-)  
  
Papyrus was tall, top heavy and always in this costume that had a cape attached. Though not always side by side, hip bone to hip bone, Sans and Papyrus were at their fullest potential when they appeared as a duo. They were everything that the other wasn't, but they worked so well and their love for the other was infinite in mass, that nobody ever questioned it.  
  
Whereas Sans lacked motivation to even get out of bed most days, Papyrus was brimming with energy from dawn ‘til dusk. Even in the cold, dark maws of the underground, Papyrus found light in the smallest, most unknown places. To him, there was optimism to be discovered in just about anything. It seemed Sans was the only one to ever notice this about him, even though he kept it to himself.  
  
Sans was comfortable never learning a new craft because, frankly, he couldn't be arsed with a workload brought on by something with a likelihood of failing. Meanwhile Papyrus was adorning an apron and suddenly investing in the highest quality of pots and pans. Yes. He wanted to cook. The shorter brother still remembered the day Papyrus had sent the proclamation ringing through the household.  
  
"SANS. I WANT TO MAKE SPAGHETTI."  
  
"oh yeah? why spaghetti, bro?"  
  
"ARE YOU KIDDING? IT'S LITTLE PALE RIBBONS AND BOWS...BUT EDIBLE! AND COVERED IN A TASTY SAUCE!"  
  
Sure, he wasn't great at making spaghetti. And sure, spaghetti was the only thing he could make and in every instance the taste was enough to make anyone gag. But it was Papyrus' spaghetti, and that's what made it wonderful. He was wonderful for trying, and always wanting to try for more. Sans found admiration in that. Papyrus was everything he could be, but didn't have the motivation to be. He liked stargazing when there were no stars to see. He liked watering flowers even though gardens were all but dormant in the snow. He would never stop crafting puzzles even when no one was there to try them.  
  
And that's why Sans couldn't ever afford to lose him.  
  
(-)  
  
"so you could imagine my horror when i woke up from one of my many siestas, floated up out of the earth and found everyone gone."  
  
You were distant, hazy with wonder. Conceptualizing Papyrus while simultaneously losing him to a black sea.  
  
"You said you lived in a society where humans and monsters were united on the surface. And then you discovered that one day it had all been undone, or not done at all. There were no monsters..."  
  
"yep. and no papyrus. ‘course i searched for the others, but knowing my bro was out of reach hit harder than anything else."  
  
His thumb brushed past your ear, and you didn't flinch this time. He didn't seem to do it on purpose. He was just thinking, and it happened subconsciously as a result.  
  
"you have no idea what it feels like. waking up, and everything you know and care about is torn straight out of existence?"  
  
Morbid.  
  
"it's almost worse than knowing they're dead. ‘cause i don't know anything, whether they're suffering or they're fine, just somewhere else without me. like they could be somewhere where sans never happened, and be totally okay with it, unaware that i'm here lookin’ for them. and paired alongside that ignorance is a limbo of crushing hopelessness. loneliness too, since i'm seen and heard by no one. it's a question of whether i'm now alive or dead. whether or not this'll last forever."  
  
You wondered, for an instant, if he had ever cried over this. He seemed far from the emotional type, but you knew you would have long been driven insane by sorrow if you were in his slippers.  
  
His hand drifted down to fall upon your shoulder. You hadn't realized until then that his arm was completely draped around you, and had been throughout the entire conversation.  
  
"that's why i'm lucky to have found you."  
  
It was meant to be said while expressing fondness, but Sans still appeared distraught as anything. Miserable. You wondered if this was what he looked like when he wasn't around to pester you. It made you reflect on your attitude toward him thus far.  
  
"I wish I could help you..." you said, making ultra-intense eye contact with him. He breathed out softly, as if laughing.  
  
"you already are helping me. by being here and being," he prodded your skull, "tangible."  
  
Your breath caught short in your throat when he leaned forward so that his temple was piled up against yours.  
  
"now you see why i can't lose ya, sunshine?"  
  
"Yeah..." the _I'm sorry_ you wanted so desperately to say was lost on your tongue. There wasn't much to apologize for. It wasn't as though you had done this to him.  
  
“you understand now why i can’t afford to have some weirdo steal you away?”  
  
“I do,” you nodded, swallowing nervously. “I swear I do.”  
  
“good.”  
  
"And uh, remember how you said you had a theory," you were suddenly shy and allowed your gaze to wander into your lap. "About why it's me that's able to do this for you in the first place."  
  
"yes."  
  
"Well? Lay it on me bone-boy."  
  
"nah. you've run out of questions for the day."  
  
You hadn't prepared yourself for the sudden wave of cold when he left your side, stepped away from the couch and table, and walked several feet until he was airborne. Now how did that work? His bones were freezing, and yet you wanted them near you again like nothing else. Him against you had become oddly comforting.  
  
"it's gotten late. i know you need to go to bed and i’ve probably emotionally exhausted you. so i'll just make like santa and leave your presence."  
  
"Sans, wai-" Ooh. Bad joke skelly. Some things never change. "Sans. Don't go."  
  
"why not?"  
  
"Well..." you hopped off the couch yourself before pointing toward it, where both your asses had left indents in the fabric. "You said it feels good for you to sit down. I bet just floating around all night can get really tiring. So you can..." you fluffed a pillow for emphasis before propping it against the armrest. "Sleep here. I’d be honored if you did."  
  
"aw. appreciate the sentiment, sunshine, but really i don't need anyone feelin' sorry for me, much less you." One leg was sticking through the door already. "i can make due."  
  
"Sans, _no."_  
  
When you grabbed his arm, you half expected his suspended leg to seize in the middle of the door plane, as you had suddenly brought him back into the world, and quite abruptly too. But in fact, he only stumbled toward you before his fuzzy shoes found the carpet again. He stared up at you, looking the most bewildered someone with a perpetual smile could.  
  
"Stay here." You had an iron grip on his sleeve. You pulled a strand of hair from your head and offered it to him. Desperately wishing he’d spool it around his pinky. Your brows furrowed when he didn’t budge.  
  
"Please. You can even have my blanket. Just promise you won't turn my alarm off again and we'll be gucci. Okay?"  
  
Time stood still for a whopping two seconds before he sighed, releasing any breath he might have been holding.  
  
"fine. i'll stay. don’t need a blanket though. i’m already accommodated for,” he tugged the scarf, insinuating what wasn’t actively said. You mumbled an agreement and let the hair slip into his waiting hand.  
  
“but do yourself a favor and don't look at me like that anymore."  
  
You resisted tilting your head. The seriousness went unraveling. "Why?"  
  
With one hand he reached up and gently flicked you on the nose, grin softening, gaze going limp.  
  
"because with eyes like those, i’ll fall. and i’ll fall _hard.”_


	9. You and Sans spend five days asking each other really lame and dorky questions and the romantic tension is real

There were a lot of weird things that had happened in the world up until that point. Admittedly, you witnessed almost none of them in person; rather it was relayed to you via media networks or the front page of your search engine on the internet. Secondhand experience, if you will.  
  
_'Pregnant woman gives birth in grocery store parking lot while husband shops for bread.'  
  
'Dog runs marathon by accident, finishes race in seventh place.'  
  
'Man in Russia proven to have magnetic skin.'_  
  
And then of course there were the odd ones out in your very own clientele. The "uncommoners" as you so called them. For even though Cool Subject's demographic made for a lot of weirdos or awkward socialites by default, there was sometimes a special one that came through those glass doors and proved themselves unique compared to the rest. One guy had stared hard into your eyes, swearing he could make out planets and stars where there was meant to be reflected light. Another time this girl realized she forgot her wallet and proceeded to cartwheel out from which she came, never to be seen again. There was even a dude who came in dressed as a hardcore vampire when it wasn't even Halloween, and talked about blood and how everyone had a different taste to theirs. You almost called the cops on him.  
  
All weird. All very interesting. Worthy of conversation over some funny drinks with friends, if you were to ever acquire either of the two.  
  
But none of them compared to having a skeleton with pink shoes stand in your lounge, look you dead in the eye holes and say with withering pride,  
  
"with eyes like those, i'll fall,"  
  
And he'll fall..  
  
...hard....  
  
...?  
  
...???  
  
...?!?!?!  
  
_...?!?!?!? WHAT?_  
  
"What on EARTH are you talking about?! SANS?!" you had half a mind to confiscate the hair and then shove him right out the door. Let the pit of the world gobble him right up. You were near frothing at the mouth while he shrugged indifferently.  
  
"what's up?"  
  
"What do you mean WHAT'S UP? You'll fall?!"  
  
"yeah."  
  
"You'll fall for _me?"_ Eye was twitching. "Am I understanding you correctly?"  
  
"mm. sure, yeah."  
  
"Explain yourself!"  
  
Sans looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. He rubbed the back of his skull, glaring past you and at the futon. Regret was evident on his macabre features.  
  
"i'm just teasin' ya, kiddo. i mean, you're pretty, yeah. but it was just a joke. don't need to get all _up in arms_."  You hadn’t noticed your arms were both lifted to punctuate confusion until he manually tugged them down to his level. Really, he was going for the _It was just a prank, bro!_ approach. That wasn't going to suffice.  
  
"Sans I don't think you're quite fathoming the weight of your own implications. You can't just-wait," you stopped, softening a bit. Your speech became embellished.  
  
"You think I'm pretty?"  
  
Before Sans could answer, there were some hard thuds on the floor that came from a lower level.  
  
"Ah hell. My neighbor's no doubt pissed off at the noise I'm making," you were sure to keep your voice low as you explained, watching the floorboards like they were moats of lava. "How in the world am I going to explain away my actions if he came up here to confront me? To him it's like I'm yelling at nothing. He'll think I've gone mad and try to get the landlord involved and _trust me_ it’ll be a cold day in hell before I lose my own place because some _skeleton-."_  
  
"how's he hitting his own ceiling?" Sans wondered, eyed lowered. "is he just a very tall human?"  
  
"No? Probably grabbed a broomstick or something. The jerk." Great, now you were distracted.  
  
"does this always happen?"  
  
"Only if I raise my voice above 95 decibels or listen to techno music."  
  
"so not that often, i'm hoping."  
  
You grumbled something about him minding his own business before disappearing within your own bedroom. Sans waited on the other side of the doorway, curling your hair around his thumb when you materialized again and threw a pile of blankets at him. The skeleton vanished beneath the mass. His call to you was muffled.  
  
"thanks."  
  
"Sure. Just please stay out of my bedroom unless it's an emergency."  
  
That was your funny little way of telling the monster goodnight. Pinching your own cheeks and revolting at the heat, you shut the door, changed into a set of pajamas and crawled your ass into bed. Wasn't even worth the effort to shower, or brush your teeth.  
  
Once on the mattress, without a blanket and slightly cold, you balled up, pressed your face into the pillow, pretended it were a cloud and you could drift away.  
  
Monsters can't be attracted to humans, can they?  
  
Almost certainly not. That would be like a human having the hots for a monster in return. And sure, they came in various forms, but they were mostly beasts in some way. Take Sans for example. Who on earth would see a small skeleton and find it tickles their fancy?  
  
Sure, his eyes _were_ really interesting. The little lights in them, specifically. Kind of resembled stars.  
  
And his build. For being something of naked anatomy he had a lot of meat on him, didn't he? Honestly you could be way off base. It was kind of a mystery what lye under all those heavy clothes.  
  
And his smile...for something that never went away, was fairly easy to look at. Dare you say it made you feel safe around him. One of the best smiles a person could have, all things considered.  
  
The padding of Sans feet trailed past the door in a sweeping motion, puling you out of your daydreams. He must've had the sheets draped behind his back like a robe, for they dragged after his figure in one long shadow. You recoiled, ashamed and embarrassed by the own words and images you'd brought to mind mere seconds ago.  
  
That was enough thinking for tonight.  
  
(-)  
  
_Day one._  
  
(Or is it day two? Maybe day three if you count the night you found him. Fuck it we’ll do it live. Day one.)  
  
Work, lunch, and then a light study session in the library was on the agenda for today. Same as it had been the day before. Same as it would be even if Sans had never entered your life.  
  
Nothing strange ever happened to shake up the formula. The skeleton stayed far away from you when you worked the register or dipped your nose into the yellowing pages of a textbook, and there was never a recurrence of someone he felt the need to confront you about. Marcus was a no-show. That father never came back with his son. Thank the stars above...or the cave stones below.  
  
Then came time for the daily question. Huh. Guess he was serious about that after all.  
  
"what's your favorite color?"  
  
Sigh.  
  
"Sans, of all the questions you could choose that might actually be the worst one. Bravo."  
  
Your mouth was half full of frozen dinner. Not exactly a princess, were you.  
  
"You know there's quizzes people take online? Yeah little fun quizzes made to learn more about yourself or what position you fall into when it comes to a work of fiction. In most instances, if the quiz author dares to include a question about favorite colors, there's risk for decapitation."  
  
Sans snickered. “nice stall. but you still have to answer, kiddo."  
  
With half-lidded eyes, you gave him your favorite color. He was silent in the moments following, as if this were very important information in need of taking in letter by letter. Seriously, he may not be a scientific genius but you'd think he would come up with more creative queries.  
  
You couldn't find it in you to ask something crooked or heavy, so you stayed within gentle boundaries.  
  
"What about you?"  
  
He looked away from the old movie he was watching. The reception was gritty and giving way. You stood from the table and went to adjust the antennas, allowing his eyes to follow.  
  
"my favorite color?"  
  
"Yeah," you said, bitterness outlining your words as you waited for the picture to restore. This was the part where Wonka showed off his amazing factory and nothing but static was coming through. Way to ruin it for the monster.  
  
"that's easy. blue."  
  
"Oh yeah? What kind? There’s like a million shades."  
  
Ah yeah. That kid was just about to fall in the river. Good stuff. If only you could see it better.  
  
"All blues."  
  
_"All_ blues?"  
  
"is that unusual?"  
  
You thought on this. "...No, I guess not."  
  
"c'mon. you know it _blue_ your mind."  
  
Perhaps blue wasn't even his favorite color and it was all a setup for a tasteless pun. The world may never know.  
  
(-)  
  
_Day two._  
  
With all your assignments completed, there was no need to hit the library after work. So you went grocery shopping.  
  
The skeleton, realizing that you were both in the public eye, decided to assume his phantom state to avoid unnecessary risk. Like a cereal box falling on his head, or any supernatural phenomenon of a similar ilk.  
  
You were putting at least five bottles of ketchup and mustard in your basket when he nudged you.  
  
"where's your family at?"  
  
Woah. "Sans," you whisper, "It's a bit early in the day, no? To ask questions?"  
  
"better early than never."  
  
Well you can't argue with that. Even if the setting was questionable at most.  
  
"I've been no contact with them since moving out on my own," you answered, avoiding his gaze as you stared down the aisle under bright, stale lighting. "They did an okay job of raising me...but I have nothing in common with them. We're just related. Obviously I wouldn't want them hurt but...yeah. I don't catch myself ever wanting to visit them. Don’t even miss their voices, and they seem to not miss mine."  
  
"hm. depressing."  
  
He had said it with a bit of slyness, like he almost didn’t believe you or could beat you at this game of misery. You knew better than to ask about his family and resurrect unwanted feelings.  
  
But you couldn't stop yourself from prying just a bit deeper than not at all.  
  
"What's the Underground like?"  
  
He looked a bit peeved, busying his eyes with the label on the ketchup he was holding.  
  
"dark."  
  
Oh okay.  
  
You decided it was best to leave it at that.  
  
(-)  
  
"this is gross."  
  
Couldn't say you didn't warn him. You both sat side by side on the couch, glaring wide-eyed at the TV screen as poor little Carrie got dumped with pig's blood after falsely being announced the prom queen.  
  
"It isn't real blood you know. It's just a movie. A really old one and the effects are dated."  
  
"it’s red and goopy and the girl looks horrified. in context, it’s blood. and that’s gross.”  
  
Fair.  
  
"did you have something like this in high school?" He pointed a bony digit at the screen.  
  
"Prom you mean?"  
  
"yeah. where kiddos dress up and stuff, dance around in a big room."  
  
"Yeah…but I didn't go to mine."  
  
He looked away from Carrie just as she commenced her psychotic meltdown. "why not?"  
  
"Nobody asked me to be their date," your brow furrowed at this. Never had it really bothered you in a way that others could pick up on. But Sans was abnormal, and sensed your frustration right away.  
  
"what about going with friends?"  
  
"I didn't have any close ones. I would have felt uncomfortable tagging along with a bunch of randies." In your head you rationalized that you wouldn't have liked prom anyway, but there honestly was no real way of knowing.  
  
"you really should've gone. seems like it would be a big deal when you're a teenager. i mean look at carrie." Carrie was silently screaming.  
  
"Well, I'm grown up now, and it's a little late to feel angry over something far in the past."  
  
Sans considered this. His skull dipped downward, bright irises moving up to mindlessly watch Carrie get her revenge via psychic powers. It got you thinking.  
  
"So bone-friend," you put on a face to save the mood. "Tell me. How would you protect me if someone were to try anything? Being you're my alleged guardian. Example, someone comes into Cool Subject ready to fight me tomorrow. What are you gonna do?"  
  
Sans was quiet, focused intently on the television, so much so you wondered if he had even heard you. He watched as poor Carrie tossed students left and right, kinetically of course, and set the room ablaze with electrical fire as she descended from stage, dazed, looking nowhere but ahead.  
  
"all i can really say without scarin' you too much, sunshine," he sent a lopsided smile your way, and you weren’t sure how to feel. Your suspicion was drawn thinner when he put an arm around you.  
  
"watch more horror movies like these."  
  
(-)  
  
Day four.  
  
"So are you seeing someone or what?"  
  
Nope. Actually it wasn't Sans that had asked this one. It was you, in all your nosy glory. He dropped the ketchup bottle in his lap, scowling when a stain was left in the wake of his clothing (but what did he expect?) Quickly he took several steps away from you, slipped from reality and allowed the residue to fall off his form with a splat. It was kind of rude. But also cool in a way that provoked slight envy.  
  
"meaning...?" He was fetching napkins while you drummed your fingers on the table, looking over some notes you'd printed out for school.  
  
"I mean are you dating anyone," you said it as if it were obvious, wiggling your eyebrows and clicking the pen in your hand. You were playing under the guise that this was asked just to mess with him, but really it was to quell some of your own childish curiosity.  
  
"Is there a Mrs. Sans back home?"  
  
"heh. yeah right." Sans decided it was time to switch to mustard. But just a little taste. He was squirting it into a teaspoon with strange precision. "nah, there isn't."  
  
"How come? No admirers?"  
  
"sure, maybe. but romance ain't really my thing. why be in love when you can be asleep?"  
  
Take of that what you will, but it was kind of hard to believe once you remembered what he had said to you just a few days prior. Maybe love just made him insecure. You could relate with that.  
  
"and you?"  
  
"What."  
  
"got a partner i should know about?"  
  
"No." Kind of a silly thing to ask. He would've met them at some point.  
  
"how come?" oh, he was testing you now. Look at him, staring smug past the mustard bottle like he knew what really pushed your buttons.  
  
"Well, as much fun as being asleep is, it's more because I just haven't found the right person."  
  
"not even that library kid?"  
  
Maybe it was supposed to be playful but there was something in there that just wasn't.  
  
"Hey now. That's one too many questions," you joked.  
  
You might have been mistaken but he seemed to be frowning.  
  
(-)  
  
"would you smooch a ghost?"  
  
You had been dramatically looking into the camera, ready to proclaim DAY FIVE when you shot Sans a murderous expression. He would've been intimidated if you weren't wearing footie pajamas that had polar bears patterned all over them.  
  
"Alright now you're pushing it with the weird questions."  
  
"could've been weirder."  
  
"Maybe. But still. No. No Sans I can’t say I would smooch a ghost."  
  
"why not?" Uh oh. He seemed offended. Maybe what you were saying was akin to like racism, or sexism. Ghosts were probably a species where he came from, so you stopped yourself before denouncing their existence altogether.  
  
"I mean. It wouldn't feel like anything either way."  
  
"but if you could _feel_ something."  
  
"Hm," you put a finger to your lip, and his pupils followed it. You smiled behind your own hand.  
  
"I guess I would if the ghost took me to prom and showed me a jolly ol’ time."  
  
Because of course, the best laughter came from misery. It was a jab at your own self and it didn't feel particularly good leaving your mouth. But Sans had recovered from his disappointment, grinning ear to ear. I mean..well...if he had...ah you get it.  
  
"And would you smooch a human?" you batted your eyes after him, hoping he couldn't notice the blood rushing to your cheeks.  
  
Sans relaxed his expression, stepping back. "already told you i wasn't into romance."  
  
"So does that mean no?" you weren't exactly surprised. How could a skeleton monster even kiss when they didn’t have lips? That was your real question but you didn't want to hurt his feelings.  
  
"i mean, i'm open-minded. guess it depends?"  
  
"So your answer is it depends."  
  
"i'll have to get back to you on that."  
  
Well. Talk about dissatisfying. With a huff, you climbed into bed, bid him a halfhearted goodnight through the doorway you had learned to keep open most every night. The lights in the living room faded so all that was left was the soft glow of the television, painting the walls in ambient blue. His favorite color.  
  
Sans was starting to grow on you. Not in a super dramatic, mushy way, but you were gradually getting used to his company and learning to appreciate it. What you had thought would be unneeded complication in your very mundane life was just a nice little slice of different that made each day a tad more bearable. You realized that, lately, you had been falling asleep wearing lazy smirks, and waking up to find him snoring on the futon every morning for the past five days had become endearing.  
  
You curled up to assume a more ball-like form. Still without sheets but also without complaint. It was the little sacrifices you made to show you cared deep down beneath the unearthed stubbornness.  
  
Boy was there was some tension though. There was that constant worry if he meant what he said about falling for you. He wasn't the romantic type, so surely that was just something he said to tease you, paired alongside the remark about your attractiveness. It was nothing to get worked up over. Right?  
  
Some footsteps entered your room. You kept your eyes shut and breathed steadily, pretending to be asleep. Your heart was beating rapidly and you worried he wouldn't buy into the idea it was happening due to dreams.  
  
What did he need?  
  
What was he gonna do?

He wasn't here to eat you, was he?  
  
Then.  
  
_Plop._  
  
Blankets fell on your body. Crooked, massive in the middle and not properly tucked around your shoulders. But as you lay there silently, Sans did something that spoke volumes in comparison to just correcting the placement of some sheets.  
  
He ruffled your head.   
  
_He's just going to take a lock of hair,_ you reasoned. _He might have lost the other one and now needs a replacement._  
  
Nope. He combed through your hair softly, cold bony fingers running past your scalp in small, flitting touches. They ghosted down to your ears, swirling around the shell before teetering back up. It gave you tingles. You considered revealing your consciousness and asking what he was playing at but knew the moment would be ruined forever.  
  
Sans withdrew his hand, mumbled something quietly that not even you could make out despite being right next to him.  
  
And then he was gone from the room.


	10. ALL you ask is that Sans behave himself in public and like a toddler he does the exact opposite.

Morning clawed its way onto the land dripping in ugly grays. Accompanied with it was the sound of a siren. Your alarm was kind of masochistic that way.  
  
Your eyes fluttered open, immediately prompted to close again and chase after dreams all wearing a vibrant blue. Such enchanting blues, too. You had fallen into a slumber with that specific color in mind, and wrought upon you were visions of blazing skies, mist atop a summery sea, a dress that glowed like Christmas lights, and an iris that floated and blinked at you from within a lightless void. Just a weird, surrealistic mix of stuff like that. You were sort of already missing it.  
  
This reality that you awoke to almost depressed you with how dull it was. But then you remembered Sans was just a room over, probably snoring as he did from time to time (who knew skeletons were capable?) and suddenly the patterns on the bedsheets had hints of gold you never noticed before. You smiled, that is, until your belly took a deep and perilous swan-dive.  
  
Sans did some really weird stuff to your head last night under the assumption that you weren't aware of it, as you were too busy being unconscious. You remembered it vividly, the feeling of his digits mapping through the swirls of your hair, and it made you shiver. It meant nothing, right? Of course it meant nothing. Why would it mean something?  
  
You went about your usual morning routine, brushing your teeth, washing your face, combing your hair in careful strokes. Except this time you pulled a strand free from the teeth of said comb, an intention in mind.  
  
You entered the living area draped in a robe and flashed your dreary eyes toward the comatose skeleton. He was turned away, head tucked toward his chest, balled up, body rising and falling with steady breaths. You had to pay close attention to really hear it, but he seemed to be lightly snoring. There was a touch of warmth brought on by the sight as you scooted by and went to start your coffee.  
  
After flicking on the dim, buzzy kitchen light, you checked your phone as it sat charging on the counter-top, brows furrowing when you read a text from your boss. The coffeemaker was sputtering behind you when you made an almost gasp, one riddled with glee, as you processed the words on screen after reading them several times in disbelief.  
  
You retrieved the cup, now full of that good ol' timeless steamy beverage, turned to grab some cream and sugar when you nearly ran headfirst into Sans. He had his hands pushed into his pockets and wore a devious smile to contradict the shadowy valleys under his eyes. One would think he hadn’t slept at all.  
  
"It is way too early in the morning to be doing that," despite sounding annoyed, your mouth was hitching in the slightest smile. Your heart was faintly churning as well. He might have noticed this, for he was smug as anything.  
  
"good mornin', kiddo."  
  
You sighed, shaking your head. "But of course. Why drink coffee when I have a crazy skeleton monster bouncing around my flat?"  
  
He shrugged. "gotta keep you on your toes somehow, don't I?"  
  
"Please. I'm already taller than you."  
  
"that one almost hurt my feelings."  
  
You chuckled, taking the strand of hair that was once woven around your thumb and dangling it in front of him.  
  
“Here, to replace the old one.”  
  
He took it without a moment’s hesitation, dropping the old piece of hair, leaving it to disappear.  
  
“how thoughtful of you.”  
  
“If you say so.”  
  
Once at the table, you watched him while taking careful sips from your drink. He meandered toward the pantry, possible spelunking for his breakfast ketchup. Good think you had recently stocked up.  
  
"How'd you sleep last night?" you glanced at the futon, noting the indented cushions where his body had been and smirked. "You weren’t cold, were you?”  
  
Ooh, testy. He snickered, not humoring you even a glimpse of wavering eye contact. Wasn't much he could've done in terms of hiding evidence as you had it sprawled across your bed in the neighboring room.  
  
"well, ya know how it goes. i already got a jacket and scarf made for snow. figured you needed it more than i did, especially considerin' all you have is-"  
  
"-Skin," you finished, snorting when his posture stiffened at the edges. "Lots and lots of skin. Don't really need a blanket the way you might considering you don't have skin."  
  
"skin's overrated."  
  
"Well that's definitely something I don't hear everyday."  
  
He pushed some air through his nose hole in faint amusement, tearing open a ketchup packet and squirting the contents over his smile, where it disappeared into the crevices between his teeth. You had never caught him actually part his jaws, even to consume food. You wondered if it was all fused together. Like clay.  
  
"Anyway, thanks," you took another swig of your drink, pretending to be reading something off your phone. "For giving me my blanket back."  
  
"don't mention it, sunshine." Sans threw out the emptied packs before crossing the room to the window. "and speakin' of sunshine..."  
  
 _Clash!_  
  
Just as he had pulled apart a wrinkled set of blinds, thunder clapped loudly in the distance, causing both you and the skeleton to jolt and your wibbly wobbly table to wibble wobble some more. He eyed the rain with disdain (good rhyme) before abandoning the window and the gloomy sights it had to offer.  
  
"weather's weird." He fell back on the couch, stretching, his joints doing that familiar cracking thing that made you wince, and maybe if it weren’t the asscrack of dawn you would've had the energy to be offended when he propped his feet up on the coffee table.  
  
"life on earth revolves around the sun ya know. for real though," he winked, expecting a reaction for his awful 'joke,' where all you offered was an unimpressed deadpan.  
  
"i find it bizarre that all it takes is some angry clouds and suddenly the sun is blocked and there's sky water. it's like humans got their own magic goin’ on up there."  
  
Yeah. You supposed living underground, one was not really accustomed to weather changes.  
  
"I actually just got a text from my boss," you said, referring to the earlier message on your phone. "He says Cool Subject's power was knocked out from the storm and none of the registers are responding. We're down for business today, meaning I don't need to come in."  
  
Sans was off the couch, searching high and low for the remote when he made sudden eye contact with you.  
  
"so you've got the day off."  
  
"Informally, sure. Off as I'll ever be," you went to rinse out the empty cup in the sink. As the faucet ran, Sans followed you with his eyes. You didn't look up to confirm it, but you could feel it. It was...heavy…to say the least.  
  
"we'll be alone all day then?"  
  
"...Yes..." when he put it that way, you found it hard not to blush like a schoolgirl. What in the world? Toweling off the cup, you cleared your throat before things got too uncomfortable. "I just hope the power doesn't go out here too. We'll lose light, the heater, television, hell I won't even be able to charge my phone. I used to like storms until I moved here and they started inconveniencing me. Guess that's what I get for living in a complex with cheap electricity."  
  
You were expecting any kind of response, and it might have made you feel more at ease if it came in the form of those puns he was so fond of. But when you ventured back into the living room, making a beeline for the cushion next to Sans, you stalled when you saw his face. His grin was starting to flatline.  
  
"What's the matter?" you asked, putting on a smirk in hopes that he would mirror it. No such luck. You stopped yourself short before sitting down next to him.  
  
He sighed, looked down into his lap and fumbled with his bony monster hands. Whatever was on his mind, it was causing him to act incredibly strange. Your thoughts wandered momentarily to the night before when he stroked your hair in an almost loving fashion. What if it had something to do with that?  
  
"listen, kiddo..." he stared ahead at the blank television screen. "there's somethin' i’ve been meanin' to tell ya, and i think today would be a good day to do that, bein' you got nothin' goin' on. no work or school."  
  
"Yeah?" you realized this might actually be serious and finally sat your ass down. Surprisingly, he didn't flinch at the contact. "What's up?"  
  
"hm. gee, i dunno where to even start," he rubbed the back of his skull, irises darting off into the ether. "this is kinda big, so not sure how to say it. don't wanna freak you out."  
  
"Oh come on. There's a ketchup-eating skeleton in my living room and I've long become okay with that," you joked. "There's nothing you can say now that'll surprise me."  
  
"....mm....right. i'll hold you to that," he was growing slightly glossy with sweat. Oh wow, he really was nervous wasn't he? When you touched the top of his hand reassuringly, he whirled to look at you, as if you'd electrified him. You hadn't thought too much of the gesture until heat went flourishing in the apples of your cheeks.  
  
"Please just tell me?"  
  
Maybe it was because he was a skeleton, but when he became tense, it was abnormally obvious.  
  
"well..."  
  
 _CLASH!_  
  
And just like that, the small light in the kitchen was no more.  
  
Both you and Sans recoiled in opposite directions, looking up at the ceiling as if expecting it to crumble.  
  
"Perfect." You hissed, distracted. "This is exactly what I was afraid of."  
  
Without that one bulb that had once been deemed insignificant, the entire flat was bruised by dark. There were two little glows illuminating where Sans' pupils were, casting interesting shadows along his skull. It was not unlike the night you met him. When he turned away from you, he went to fiddle with the buttons on your cheap television set, making a small grunt upon noticing how they did not respond.  
  
"There's no power, bone boy. Meaning no lights, no heater, and no 60s movies."  
  
You could already feel the chill of a crowning winter pushing itself up against the walls, wafting in bit by bit from outside. Sans adjusted his scarf, flashing his lightning bolt eyes back in your direction.  
  
"so what're we gonna do?"  
  
You rubbed the hemisphere of your forehead in long, circular motions.   
  
"I mean, I'd light a fire but I don't have any wood," you said, gesturing toward the fireplace. Sans seemed to be thinking deeply about something just then, eyeing his own palms and the ligaments in between. You weren't sure how long he would be like that, so you decided to interject sooner rather than later.  
  
"There's a coffee shop nearby. I mean yeah, I just drank coffee, but it's a good place to go in times like this. Their generators are much more reliable than the ones here, or anywhere, really. We can hide out there for a few hours until the rain stops."  
  
He looked up at you.  
  
"you think that's a good idea, kiddo?"  
  
"Better than staying here. Though you'd have to be sure to remain on your best behavior," you teased. "Just do like you did when we went grocery shopping. Stay low and don't mess with me too much because I can’t actively react to you without looking like a lunatic."  
  
At that, he smiled softly.   
  
"makin' no promises."  
  
Of course. The lunatic part, to him, was almost tempting.  
  
“i’m game, but only under two conditions.”  
  
“Hm. Wow. Usually people realize they’re pressing their luck with just one condition,” you said, deflating when he ignored you. Instead he held out his hand and counted off on the fingerpads.  
  
“one. we shortcut there.”  
  
“Ah come on,” Already the cold and dark apartment didn’t seem so bad. Just that suggestion alone made you sickly.  
  
“not callin’ you a bad driver but no way are you drivin' in this weather. i won't let you.”  
  
“Seriously? But it’s right down the road! And I've done it before!” you argued. He shook his skull, unrelenting.  
  
“nope. sorry. too dangerous for you.”  
  
“Okay _dad._ And slow your roll, I’m still in my pajamas.”  
  
"well put on your big-girl pants and let's hit the road."  
  
"Aye aye, captain boss-me-around."  
  
(-)  
  
Sans was peeling open a gateway to some area outside the coffee shop. How did he know where it was? You had to assume he’d done his rounds through the area several times before tumbling into your life, and knew it just as well as you. Wherever it was, lanterns were on display and a striped cabana roof kept the small space dry. Possibly some place by the back door of the shop. As the hole became larger, you could see rain pouring in buckets for miles on end, contrasting the orange light with deep and murky indigos.  
  
The coast was clear. As he ushered you in, you held your breath, hoping it would quell some of the queasiness. He took your hand and squeezed it. It brought you back down to earth, but just barely.  
  
“and two,” Sans spoke as he followed you.  
  
“when we get back, you and i’ll continue our little talk.”  
  
Wow Sans way to not be overdramatic about it. You were too busy rolling your eyes to feel nauseous now. The portal creased shut, and you and the skeleton rounded around the building toward the entrance, now in a new location.  
  
(-)  
  
The coffee shop was buzzing with an unusual amount of customers. It started to make sense the more you surveyed each of their individual appearances, finding them all young, college-age, bespectacled with their noses in laptops or books and pale coffees on standby. You figured this was the kind of crowd to find something romantic about taking shelter in a coffee shop on a rainy day. It was warm here, as well as dry. There was a cozy ambiance to it that couldn't be matched with anything else the miserable town had to offer.  
  
After purchasing a wedge of lemon bread, you buried yourself in the farthest corner of the room, took your phone from your denim pocket and browsed the internet in silence. It wasn't long before Sans planted his bony ass right across from you whilst looking around, uncertain if it was safe to let his guard down what with the quantity of people. For him it was hard enough getting to the table without accidentally bumping into one of them. Plus, it wasn't every day you two shamelessly seated yourselves in public areas like this. It was like playing with fire; you couldn't blame him for being scared.  
  
You made sure no one was looking before reassuringly slipping him a crumb. He felt the particle graze his fingertip and bounced his attention back to you, smiling. Guess if you didn't care, he shouldn't either, right?  
  
 _"yellow_ to you too," he said proudly, pinching the spongy little crumb in front of your face. Lightly you swatted after him, mouthing words that barely contained sounds, like how ventriloquists do.  
  
"Don't play with your food," you quipped. Even if it was a joke there was a nucleus of command to it. If anyone happened to avert their eyes your way, they'd see floating bits of cake, and you looking tickled pink by nothing whatsoever. Sans sighed, moving the bit of lemon cake to his mouth where it disappeared beneath his teeth. Almost like he slurped it. How did he even do that?  
  
You must've been staring, looking awfully concerned, for the skeleton stared back at you, pleased with himself and his little party trick. He poked you between your eyes.  
  
"magic."  
  
Okay. Guess that was his answer for everything.  
  
Without further ado, you went back to scavenging your phone for something that would kill time. It was too bad you couldn’t talk with your monster friend. Man, what these people didn’t know, right? Eventually you settled on some generic fanfiction; an X Reader of sorts.  _I know right?_ Once or twice your eyes flashed back at Sans, hoping he couldn't read upside down and gauge the kind of shit you subjected yourself to. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.  
  
You were startled when a voice piped up from your left, causing you to drop the phone on your cake.  
  
"Hey, Y/N!"  
  
 _Plop._ Icing on the screen now.  
  
"Oh, sorry 'bout that. Didn't mean to scare you."  
  
Quickly you locked your phone, blackening the screen before you looked up to meet eyes with the brave soul who dared to disturb you.   
  
"Oh…Marcus." Shit. "What’s up,” you were unenthusiastic upon noticing the familiar face. Marcus was oblivious to any subtle hints you might have been dropping that he needed to disappear, and it's a good thing Sans wasn't visible because he looked even more annoyed than you.  
  
"Finally I got you right where I want you," he joked, shooting a finger gun your way while setting his coffee down on the table with the other. What the hell? Was he trying to start up some kind of impromptu coffee date? You nearly lunged at him when he went to claim the chair across from you. That would mean he'd end up sitting on Sans! Quickly you waved your hand before he made himself comfortable.  
  
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  
  
He stopped, straightening, and you breathed out in relief.  
  
“Aw, what’s wrong cutie? Don’t tell me you’re bashful?”  
  
He really thought he was all that and a bag of chips. You weren't sure whether to giggle uncomfortably or tell him to get out of your face, so you found a middle ground.  
  
"No offense but I'm actually not feeling the whole conversation thing right now. Just thought I'd drop in for a bit to get out of the rain, find some heat. I've sat here relaxing for like five minutes with-"   
  
Bite your tongue. You almost said _with Sans._ You caught yourself playing with your phone nervously and held it up for emphasis. "...my phone. Relaxing for five minutes with my phone."  
  
"Oh no, don't mind me," Marcus said, waving one hand dismissively, leaning into the table. "The last thing I want is to bug you."  
  
So why do you do it every day dude.  
  
"Although," his eyes grew quizzical. "I couldn't help but notice, you said something about finding some heat? Here in the shop?"  
  
You looked away, half embarrassed.   
  
"Yeah. Power outage at my complex, meaning no heat and I'm out of firewood, otherwise I would've just camped out in my living room by the fireplace and stayed like that til kingdoms came falling down."  
  
"Ah. Well you know, I live in a really nice flat and I've got loads of firewood!"  
  
Don't like where this is going.  
  
"I just came to pick some cake up. I'll get some for you too and then we can go back, hang out or whatever?"  
  
"No thanks," you said quickly. Jeez. Talk about awkward. It didn't help that Sans was inaudibly drumming his fingers on the table while wearing the most hostile look you'd ever seen on him. It was like he was trying to burn Marcus into ash with eye daggers alone.  
  
"Are you sure?" Marcus was all smiles despite very clearly being rejected. "It _is_ pretty nice."  
  
"That’s great and all but no. I'm fine." Now you were getting pissed off and it was clear. Sans noticed this and eyed you immediately.  
  
"But...but Y/N."  
  
Your grip tightened on your phone. You almost wanted to chuck it at him just to see what would happen. All at once, however, your attention was pulled elsewhere when the sound of a chair scraping the floor alerted you from two feet away.   
  
Sans had stood. Hands still in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched.  
  
"say the word and i'll take care of him."  
  
Marcus was taking a step back, glaring at the space where the monster stood.  
  
"Woah. Am I...Did that chair just move on its own?" He looked at you, incredulous. "I didn't imagine...that, did I?"  
  
You couldn't respond to him. You were too busy locking eyes with Sans, mystified that he would try something, and here of all places. You didn't speak, but your expression demanded two things: What had gotten into him? And what did he plan to do?  
  
"i'll get rid of him. he’ll be away from you. he won't bother you ever again."  
  
"Y/N?"  
  
"trust me."  
  
"Y/N? What are you staring at?"  
  
"say the word."  
  
You shook your head at Sans softly, begging him silently not to interfere with someone who couldn't even see him. You remembered asking him point blank what kind of power he was capable of, on an evening where you were both cozy and at peace on your creaky little futon. And he straight up wouldn't tell you. But you really had no intention of finding out this way.  
  
"Y/N. Hey." Marcus had grabbed your hand as it lye resting on top of the table.  
  
A split second later, his touch was gone.  
  
Instead he was backing away, yelping, his hand seared by coffee that came from a fallen cup.  
  
Or was it a _pushed_ cup?  
  
Well, you knew Sans had something to do with it, because he had acted immediately and was now covering your hand with his free palm to make sure none of the spill landed on you. But you could almost swear he had not laid a finger on the cup itself. So what the hell? How did he do that?  
  
 **"h a n d s   o f f ."**  
  
 _Oh shit._  
  
All at once, you jumped from the chair. There was coffee dripping off the table, Marcus was in the background yelling a bunch of obscenities, wracked by pain, and suddenly there were a dozen sets of eyes on you. That was the last thing you had wanted. A barista was nervously offering Marcus some napkins when you peeled from the shop like it had come to life and was trying to gobble you up.  
  
The rain was hitting you full force when you stopped and dumbly realized that your car was not in the parking lot. You hadn’t driven here. Fuck it, you'll run back to your place. Anything to get away from the people staring. Not only were you not used to that kind of attention, but you did not _want_ it. It was bad enough Marcus probably thought you were crazy or haunted by a poltergeist.  
  
A hand grabbed your arm and spun you back around. You nearly staggered before catching your footing at the very last second. Sans was glaring back at you in between the blinding weather.  
  
“you okay?”  
  
“No?!” You declared, eyes wide. “This was a mistake! I just want to get out of here!”  
  
"good. we're leaving."  
  
"No no no stop, get back!" you tugged, and to your surprise he let go of you, eyes like fireflies.  
  
"what?"  
  
"Just leave me alone!" you looked around to make sure no one was there to watch. But of course, who would linger to be an audience with a downpour like this?  
  
"i told you already, kiddo, i can't do that." And now he had your arm again, and in a thicker vice. You didn't move away, but you were shaking.  
  
"You'll make them think I'm crazy."  
  
"do ya really need the approval of a guy like that though? he was askin' for it. c'mon now." He was summoning another wormhole. You fidgeted as it grew in size.  
  
"Sans. Take me home, and then leave. _Please._ I need to be left alone." After all, that's what you were best at being. It was a simple request, and it drove you absolutely mad when he refused.  
  
"no can do."  
  
"Why? Give me one good reason why!"  
  
He stared hard at you. A portal was open, with pixels and stars clinging to the edges. It was as though he had never expected something like that from you. A demand.  
  
So he put it very simply.  
  
"i need you."  
  
Your brows were drawn tight with rage. "Ugh, Sans, I get it. It sucks that you're trapped here. It sucks that the world you came from had monsters and humans together and here it’s nothing like that. But there's gotta be someone else on this planet who can help you. Someone _better._ It can't only be me. It just can't be," you were becoming slightly delirious. "Because if it's going to be this way then I can't do it."  
  
"you don't understand, kiddo. it isn't the contact i need, with ground, or air or rain or whatever.” He paused, unsure of himself before continuing with his chest puffed.  
  
“it's you. i need _you._ and no, unfortunately for you, there isn't another living creature, human or monster, that exists in this universe that i need more. it's only you. it'll only ever be you."  
  
He was pulling gently. You could see your living room on the other side of the portal, and his leg was already dripping water on the floor.  
  
"…You’re right…I-I don't understand..."  
  
He had been trying to look away, but this time you drew his attention back in slow increments. He looked sullen before forcing a reluctant smile.  
  
"kiddo. we're soulmates."  
  
You froze.   
  
Limp.  
  
It was easy to pull you now.  
  
"that’s just how it is and it can’t be changed. my soul and your soul are meant to be together until the end of time."  
  
That was the last thing you heard before you and the small monster disappeared into that small tunnel of cosmos.


	11. It's a good thing your neighbor was conveniently out of the house during this chapter otherwise some brooms would've been put to serious use

Keep calm, and just breathe. In and out. Slowly. Don't starve your lungs or sanity, and keep a steady mind.  
  
Just breathe.  
  
In.  
  
And out.  
  
Once the whirlpool of space had sealed, and a time-drunken you was vaguely swaying in the middle of the apartment like you'd spun a thousand times, you were ready to lose every ounce of composure. In that moment you didn't care who saw or heard. Sans let go of you, gauging your actions carefully as he stepped backward. Just seeing him and that stupid grin and those empty eyes made you want to scream. Instead you opted for finding the nearest pillow and screeching into it for a long seven seconds.  
  
After that you were out of breath, panting sorely into the fabric. Sans sighed, residing in some shadows by the door. The lights were still out, but a murky afternoon made for a just a bit of melancholy light and allowed it to bleed through the windows. Too bad the sun was still in hiding. You could've done for some warmth.  
  
"don't be too mad at me. i did say i wanted to talk today."  
  
Oh he was really gonna go there? You dramatically threw the cushion down, face tinged red by anger.  
  
"You better tell me what the hell is going on, Sans!"  
  
Sans had his posture relaxed in a surprisingly natural way. It was incredible, how unfazed he was by all this.  
  
"mmmm how do ya mean."  
  
 _“How do ya mean.”_ you mimicked, voice low and kooky. "What the fuck do you mean how do I mean?! Soulmates?!"  
  
"kiddo. language. and while you're at it take it down a couple notches." he seemed actually kind of shocked that you were so upset. The nerve.  
  
"You can't dodge the question forever!" you huffed. _Soulmates!”_  
  
"uh-huh."  
  
"We're...soulmates?!"  
  
"yeah."  
  
"How in the world did you come to that conclusion?!"  
  
"i can feel it i guess."  
  
"Feel what? I don't feel anything!"   
  
He recoiled. "if ya don't believe me, how 'bout takin' a look at the situation. there's no other explanation for it. i should've expected it when my soul was drawn here. it was the last thing on my mind though."  
  
" _Drawn_ here?" Your voice had dropped a few octaves, inquisitive. "Go on."  
  
"uh somewhere between waking up alone and meeting ya, i stumbled all this way because my soul was calling out for yours. i didn't know what it was at the time, but i followed it, trustin' it would lead somewhere interesting. and it did, it led me right to you. the one person in the universe that can see me, hear me and even touch me. it ain't no coincidence that's for sure."  
  
You shook your head. "No. This is insane. Scratch that, more than insane. It was insane when I met you. It was insane how I let you stay here with me against all prior judgement. But _this,_ " you pointed to him, before settling the same finger over your chest," this is absolute _nonsense_."  
  
"how so."  
  
"How so?! Are you joking? Soulmates as a concept is exactly that. A  _concept_. It doesn't mean anything substantial. It's just something made up by people who are..." you grimaced, "...in love with each other. It isn't real is what I'm saying."  
  
"'s not made up, kiddo. maybe for humans it's all make-believe but down underground, souls are a science. they exist as much as anything else. i have one, you have one, everyone has one. and all souls have another soul they resonate with the most. dunno how often it's happened between humans and monsters and it's over-complicated beyond all reason, but we're living proof that it's not impossible."  
  
This wasn't happening. This was all a weird fever dream or a fairytale or some sloppy collision of the two. All your life you envisioned meeting someone you were destined to spend the rest of your life with. You weren't sure what preferences you had lined up and imagining a face always came up gray. But you never, in even the most creative realms of your mind, imagined it would be a stubby little skeleton monster named Sans. What's worse is you didn't want it. You didn't know Sans, and he didn't know you. Not really. The last thing you needed was something like this with him. Something so _romantic._  
  
So you told him the truth. "I don't want this."  
  
His expression drew tighter.  
  
"look, kiddo. in case you're wonderin' this ain't exactly hot fudge on a sundae for me neither. i didn't have a say in this just the same as you. it's just the way it is, and i can't stop it."  
  
Now this had your blood pumping again. The slack of his features, the lazy panning of his eyes. This meant almost nothing to him, and that was enough to make you furious.  
  
"Yeah well, excuse my rude accusations but you seem oddly okay with the idea that you and I are tied together forever as soulmates, against either of our wills, despite us having little in common and coming from different worlds!" That pillow that had been strewn to the ground? Yeah you kicked that. Angrily. It hit a wall.  
  
"You and I are practically strangers yet we have a link between us that is the most intimate thing in the universe." Man, just saying that made your face hot as anything. However, Sans was not one to be embarrassed just yet.  
  
"what am i supposed to do? ya want me to be angry about it? what's that gonna fix?"  
  
"You could, at the very least, acknowledge that it's actually an insanely big deal and a ridiculous thing to feign indifference toward. I would feel less like a lunatic for reacting the way I am! You're just being so casual about it and it makes me sick to my stomach!"  
  
Silence, and then suddenly it crept up on you. An epiphany. The frown etching your expression tumbled like a quiet wave on the sea.  
  
"You knew about this. You knew this whole time."  
  
No words.  
  
"And you just didn't say anything to me."  
  
The shift in Sans' demeanor would have led you to believe he'd look away, or maybe down, all out of total shame. But he looked right into your eyes. Challenging you, it felt.  
  
"How long have you known, Sans." You stared on, concerned. He dragged in a breath.  
  
"kinda figured it out within hours of meeting you."  
  
"...And you said nothing about it. How did you even figure it out on your own? What was it you were you feeling that night when I found you in the woods that was completely lost on me?"  
  
"oh i dunno, that i belonged to you, and you belonged to me?"  
  
Woah.  
  
He scuffed the floorboard with his small pink slipper, hands weaving deeper into his pockets, as if he feared saying too much too soon. He was still staring. Were his pupils brighter than normal? Almost blinding. You yourself were glaring, jaw dropped, pulse pounding in your ears with feverish rhythm. It took you forever to find your voice again, and once it came into reach, it was naught but a whisper.  
  
"So it's romantic."  
  
"it doesn't have to be."  
  
"Yes it does."  
  
"no."  
  
"It's supposed to be, right?"  
  
"i mean...sure...yeah. that's the best way to avoid heartache and keep each other close, ya know? monsters who find their soulmates typically do start relationships with them, get married, have kids, etc."  
  
You supposed the monster population wasn't that large if everyone was able to find their soulmate commonly enough for it to be an everyday occurrence. But Sans corrected this for you.  
  
"some monsters underground don't have a soulmate. or maybe they do and one of them is dead or there's no hope of them ever meeting. so they marry someone else, or date around. they are happy, and there is nothing wrong with that. in fact, it can be pretty liberating knowing you don't have to ever feel that kinda love. that was how i assumed it was for me. with a soulmate, you know there's no one else in the world better for you but that alone can be really daunting. a lot of monsters are happy without a soulmate for that reason.  _i_ was happy."  
  
" _Was_? So you're not okay with it anymore. Not happy?"  
  
"can't say i am. i know what it feels like now, and see, it's really powerful. i wouldn't reverse it for the world."  
  
The hell? How could he say that with a straight face?  
  
"Even though it made you scald the hand of someone who wouldn't stop pestering me in a crowded coffee shop?"  
  
His pupils were definitely able to alter in brightness. They now had grown dimmer.  
  
"...he had it comin'."  
  
"That's not the point."  
  
"the answer to the question you're not asking is yes. i wanna protect ya because of this bond. because we're soulmates. it's why i hover around you and make sure you're okay. it's why i wanna keep ya out of danger. even if that guy wasn't a creep i would want him away from you. i guess you could call it primal."  
  
Or possessive.  
  
"instinctive."  
  
Or jealous.  
  
"But...wouldn't a soulmate be someone who you are meant to...you know...breed with at least? Evolutionarily that's what would make sense." Your eyes darted away. Sans may have won this staring contest, but only because you couldn't look him straight in the eye while talking about something like breeding.  
  
He didn't miss a beat.  
  
"nah, kiddo. some monster couples are different species, some are gay, and some just flat out can't reproduce together for reasons x y or z. what determines your soulmate is not based on evolution or genetics. it runs deeper than that, taps into the mold of what makes you who you are. your abilities, your consciousness, your personality and interests. the matter that created you runs parallel in perfect harmony with the matter of another, and it becomes the most seamless clockwork in the existing realm of time and space. that's how ya know who's your soulmate and who isn't. once you've found them, it not only feels natural, but it feels right."  
  
"But this _isn't_ right," you gestured between the two of you, and his shoulders fell, discouraged. "Monsters and humans are not meant to spend eternity together. Look at how my society treats yours. Look at the way humans and monsters despise one another and live apart."  
  
"well remember what i told ya. where i come from, humans and monsters were integrated on the surface. they found peace together. i'll bet some of them even fell in love. i'll bet another _you_ existed in that world and i was just too distracted to ever go lookin' for her. or too lazy, whatever fits the narrative."  
  
That made your stomach twist. It was a weird concept to grasp, that another reality like yours existed. Another you. A better you. That wasn't the hard part of believing it. Mostly, it was everything that you had known, been taught, and grown up understanding was completely subverted in another dimension that made stones fall in your belly. And now you were crossing paths with someone from that perfect world, and you were perhaps the only reason he was present there. Sans had glitched between worlds, crossed wide galaxies and dipped between the threads and buttons of space, because his soul had been searching for yours. Calling for it. Meanwhile you felt nothing but nervousness. An uncertainty too vast to be put into worlds. Like the dark part of the ocean, just impossible to know through and through.  
  
You had to ask.  
  
"Would you ever love me, Sans?"  
  
Before he was able to answer, you quickly elaborated.  
  
"And I don't mean how families and friends love each other. I mean...like...could you be in love with me. Would you even want to spend forever with me being we might have to? Or does that scare you like it does me? Tell me you can't see that being real. Please?"  
  
He took a moment to process the question, his grin faltering. It was hard to tell in the beady little lights he had for eyes, but there seemed to be a wash of guilt, and even sadness. The lights flickered on, bringing an amber hue to paint the room. The atmosphere was less ominous, but just as indefinite.  
  
"i'll leave it at this. there is...uh...a lot that i'm not telling you. about how i feel and all. 'cause i know you would end up bein' scared of me. but think back to what i just said. how territorial i am. it ain't me just doin' it for the sport."  
  
A lot was being pledged there in just those few uncertain words, but at the same time it felt like he had said nothing at all.  
  
"What aren't you telling me, Sans?"  
  
"no way, not spillin'."  
  
"Sans. Come on, no more secrets."  
  
"sorry, but ya gotta trust me on this one. i can't tell you what this feels like. it's intense. it's supposed to be. that's how it is for monsters, and it's not mutual when humans are brought into the mix so i don't feel comfortable barraging you with it. not yet anyway."  
  
Not yet? Muse on that what you will.  
  
"What if I ran away?" You asked before you could stop yourself.  
  
"i'd go and find you."  
  
"But I would run really far."  
  
"yeah well i'll catch up eventually. remember it ain't hard for me to cover large distances with this body." He ditched the hair around his finger and lifted off the ground a few centimeters for emphasis. How showy.  
  
"Monster hunting the human down huh?" You made a pained expression thinking on the scenario, crossing your arms. "How romantic and soulmate-y."  
  
"lovin' the hypotheticals, sunshine, but it ain't like i'd be tryin' to kill ya or somethin'.  
  
"Then what would you do once you found me?"  
  
"wouldn't you like to know."  
  
Enough.  
  
You looked at the floor, finding newfound interest in the way the tiles ran in vertical fashion. How great those carpenters had been at their job.  
  
"So all this about you and I...and our souls...does that explain why you were stroking my hair last night when I was in bed?"  
  
Yeah you said it. You couldn't bottle it up a second longer. To your horror, his grin escalated, assuming a state of victory. Maybe it was just meant to disguise his true feelings, as you had clearly caught him off guard.  
  
"so that's today's question, huh."  
  
You blinked several times, realizing your not-error in a delayed fashion. You were about to argue with the tiny skeleton about how you had already asked a lot of questions thus far and this little game of his made zero sense until he breathed out raggedly.   
  
"just so you know, i already knew you weren't sleepin' when i did that, but it was a good try at being sneaky. better luck next time."  
  
Oi vey. Embarrassing. There were absolutely zero hopes of containing your blush. And here you had thought you had the upper hand.  
  
"and if you must know, i did what i did because i like you."  
  
You scoffed. "What do you mean you like me?"  
  
"nope. that's one too many questions."  
  
You pointed at the clock. "Have it your way but I'm asking you again at midnight."  
  
"sorry sunshine but that ain't how it works."  
  
Oh so now he was the one making the rules? This was really starting to get under your skin. Yeah, remember that whole skin thing?  
  
"now, how 'bout we try this again."  
  
Suddenly Sans clicked out of existence, appearing in front of you a half-second later to claim your chin between his bony fingers. You gasped, stifling a scream when he calmly shushed you. You were unable to recall an instance where he'd been so close to your face. And he was the one with a height advantage this time, for he was still hovering, and his heavy grasp coupled with how he literally teleported had you intimidated, so much so that you almost started shaking.  
  
"would you smooch a skeleton?"  
  
Oh god. There he goes again with the smooching questions. You wanted to get away more than anything.  
  
"y/n."  
  
Fuck. What the hell. He finally said your name. He had never even uttered your name until now and it was only the tenth fucking chapter in the story. Something within you stirred, hearing it roll off his unseen tongue in deep, velvety color. His teasing gaze did little to lessen the impact. You could melt into a puddle. You knew there was no getting away from this, and so you squeaked out the very first word to come to mind.  
  
"No."  
  
Sans, to your surprise, let you go. Turned, adjusted his scarf, humming to himself in what might have even been laughter. You started backing away, a little scared but not in the 'oh god I fear for my life' way. More like the 'he's unpredictable and I can't take it a second longer' way. So without further adieu, you went to find refuge in your bedroom, brain twirling like a ballet dancer after having just a bit too much to drink. It was already time to retire the circus but the clock only read 12:00 PM.  
  
And you wouldn't have stopped to wait a moment longer, heavy breathing following suit, if the skeleton hadn't swore a small something to himself when he thought you weren't listening.  
  
"we'll just have to see about that."


End file.
